Until The Fall
by Amorisa
Summary: Sequel to "Of Light". After an annual of living in the O.Z., DG and Cain set out to complete the task given to her by the Gale. Soon, she must learn that there is always more to everything than first meets the eye.
1. Chapter One: Winter

_Author's Note: Before you begin to read, please remember this is a _**sequel**_ and as such, not much past the first part is going to make much sense. By all means, feel free to read the first story, titled _**"Of Light"**_ (you can find it by going to my profile page). Welcome back to my world, to those who've been eagerly awaiting this!_

_I am going to be attempting to cover the year between the end of _**"Of Light"**_ and the real beginning of the adventure we all know is coming. I will try to date each interconnected part of the story, as things will jump forward a bit with each scene._

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**Until The Fall**

**Chapter One**

_Winter_

A few miles outside of Central City, three friends said goodbye.

It was early morning, and the sky was dawning overcast. Snow fell to gather on their shoulders and in their hair, sprinkling around them on the ground, crackling and dry. Between them was utter silence. No one quite needed to speak; two knew not what to say, the third knew all the words that could never be properly conveyed, could feel all that needed to be said with his empathetic gift.

He was bundled stuffily, while she wore a long dress coat wide open, the early morning breeze prickling her flesh. Inside and out, her body felt numb; the cold didn't bother her, couldn't touch her where she was.

The Viewer turned his dark eyes on his young friend, his gaze warm and comforting.

"Raw will miss DG," he said, and offered a tiny smile as he held out his arms. Rushing to him, she buried her face in the softness of his fur vest. She wouldn't cry... she _refused_ to cry... but he knew how hard she held back. He always knew.

"Are you sure you don't want us to go with you?" she asked, her voice cracking, betraying her.

Raw pulled away and gave her a grin, sharp white teeth rivaling the snow in their brightness. "Raw and DG have responsibilities. Paths part, will come together again."

A tear slipped loose then, unbidden. It trailed a cold path down her cheek. "Do you promise?"

Her friend was sincere. "Of course, Raw promise."

DG still wasn't satisfied, but a hand on her arm brought her back to herself. She turned towards Glitch, taking a step away from Raw, though she reached out to take the Viewer's gloved hand. Connected, the three formed a chain, and stood for the longest moment before Raw gently pulled himself from DG's grip, and DG leaned against the advisor who stood at her back.

She'd been dreading this moment for weeks. He'd dropped the news suddenly, though not unkindly. No, never unkindly.

Of all Raw excelled at, of all his gifts, the one DG appreciated the most was his ability to find the quiet places. Secluded corners where the buzz and drone of the city, the hustle and bustle of the palace didn't seem to penetrate. Little heavens tucked away within busy hells. It was during drinks after supper, one of the few occasions when his presence had been requested. _Required_, was more the term. Cain was in Central City and her mother had taken the opportunity to host a formal event for the heroes of the Eclipse.

The massive great dining hall was brimming with people, spilling out into hallways. Dinner was finished, and most were taking the opportunity to drink, and mingle. The entire affair, just an excuse to lift the mood, a reason to celebrate. For the sake of a party.

She'd noticed her father had already taken his leave from the festivities, as he always did when the events ran past dinner. It had crossed her mind that she'd have to find out his escape exits when she felt rough fingers close around her wrist. Raw gripped her, and he looked anxious.

"Will DG walk with Raw?" he asked softly.

Giving him a wide, relieved grin, she nodded; he led her out into the hallway and down a mixture of passages until they were quite removed from everything that was going on on the other side of the floor. An alcove with matching benches, an ostentatious potted tree decorated with tiny blown glass ornaments.

She sat down on a bench, not caring how hard it was beneath her butt as she reached down and slipped her shoes off her feet. She massaged her aching insoles, and looked up at her friend expectantly in the dim light.

"Are you okay?" she asked after a moment, when he hadn't spoken, and his agitation became clearer and clearer. He was pacing, which was never a good sign.

It was then she got her first hint at what was eating away at him.

"Raw..." he said slowly, then stopped. He saw the way she looked at him, blue eyes growing empty and far off. He shook his maned head, sighed, and moved to sit beside her on the bench. "Raw will leave city soon. Return to his people."

Her mouth had hung open for a moment, as she blinked furiously at the tears. Tears, where had they come from? All she knew was that they were there, falling against her will. Her eyes searched the floor, she refused to look at him.

"When?" It was all she could manage.

"Soon. Not tomorrow."

_Not tomorrow_, she thought. _Well, that's something._

"Why?" Again, monosyllables were all she seemed capable of.

Raw sighed deeply. Too deeply. It almost broke her heart.

"City holds many secrets," he said, almost too quiet for her to hear. Loud footsteps were approaching, almost as if the person walking towards them wanted to announce their presence. She couldn't have cared less. Raw's next words had little comfort. "Raw see and feel too much. Not enough peace, too many lies. My people... not meant to live with DG's people."

It was a strange sensation, being left because she was human. It barely had time to register, because at that moment, the footsteps approaching the alcove stopped outside, the person to whom they belonged staying just out of sight.

_It's probably – _

"Hey, Furball, you done tellin' her?"

– _Cain._

It was her turn to sigh, and for the briefest moment she turned her attention away from the Viewer. "How long it take you to notice me missing this time, Tin Man?"

Raw chuckled low beside her. "Cain watch DG walk away. Eyes never leave," he said, saving Cain the trouble of responding to her question. The Tin Man didn't enter the alcove, stayed outside, keeping watch as the princess secluded within the tiny space took her time letting the news sink in.

Cain was away from her more often than not, off hunting Longcoats. Wyatt Cain, bounty hunter. She'd smile at his job description if she didn't miss him so desperately much when he was gone.

Glitch was gone from Central City half the time, traveling between the city and the Tower, as he supervised the dismantling the machine that made up the bowels of the fortress. Metal and components were scrapped and sent via truck to every corner of the Zone, everything right down to the furniture donated like macabre souvenirs to the towns aided by the Reconstruction.

Raw now, too, had succumbed to the call of _elsewhere_.

And now, here she stood at six a.m., snow in her hair and clinging to her eyelashes, her cheeks stinging with cold. Somewhere deep down, she knew she was beginning to freeze, so she buttoned up her coat, taking a moment's reprieve from watching Raw adjust the pack on his shoulder.

Northeast, he would travel. A few days, into the gray-area boundary between the East and North provinces, to where his home was, where his tribe awaited him.

He'd run away, but he hoped he'd be welcomed back. She had a feeling he _knew_ he'd be welcomed back, but she wouldn't ask.

The snow was falling a little heavier, and beginning to swirl with the wind. Glitch stepped closer and put an arm around her shoulder. A solid presence, to be sure, the friend she needed exactly when she needed him. It seemed like they took it in shifts, her guardians, her friends, making sure she'd always be taken care of.

Mostly, she rebelled against it. She wasn't a kid and she wasn't breakable. Didn't need their protection... but today, just today, she'd accept the support of her oldest friend on this side of the rainbow. Glitch, the very first. Ambrose or no, he was still usually the same.

The dimness around them was lightening, though the morning around them was still pale gray, and so, so bitterly cold.

"Glitch know how to find Raw," the Viewer said slowly, taking a step back, preparing himself to break away from his friends. "Send messenger and Raw will come when DG needs him."

DG nodded, trying to smile. It was more than she could ask for, right? That if she called, he'd be there. More than she could hope for.

Glitch reached out to shake Raw's hand, and though his eyes twinkled, a very serious, quiet voice escaped his mouth. Two men, one mind. "We'll see you down the Road, then, Friend."

Raw smiled at the advisor. "Down the Road," he repeated. Just beyond where they stood, the old Brick Route was hidden by the snow. Uneven and constant, it wound its way through the trees into the farthest corners of the Zone. Though it didn't lead the way to his home, it would take him close enough. His heart would take him the rest of the way.

_No matter where we find ourselves, home is where your heart is..._

With one more quick, comforting glance at DG, which spoke more than words ever could, the Viewer turned on his heel and headed away from his friends. One foot in front of the other, bravely he continued, never looking back. Glitch and DG watched him until he'd disappeared into the trees, the road leading him away.

She felt Glitch's arm squeeze her gently, and he tried to turn her away, towards the car that waited for them. She searched the trees one last time, and when she was certain she saw no more movement, she turned with her friend and they walked slowly together.

"Ya know," Glitch said, as they ambled towards the car. The driver was out, and had the rear door open for them. "There is one good thing about all of this."

DG smirked. "Oh? And whats that?" She couldn't possibly imagine.

"He doesn't have to go through the Pa-pay fields." The grin on his face was absolutely evil. And contagious. It made her smile, and before she knew it, she was laughing. Soon he joined her, and, still giggling, they clambered into the back of the black, chauffeured car to head back into the city, another day to follow all the others that came before.

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* * *

During the weeks following Raw's departure, DG kept herself as busy as possible. She wouldn't even give herself the slightest chance to miss him. There was no more room in her heart for longing; it was common sense to quell it, remove herself from it. How else did anyone expect her to live through this?

She drowned herself in her daily lessons; Tutor had been giving the job of taking over her education. Not only did they have to worry about her magic, there was Ozian history, geography... _East is West, _she would have to remind herself. When together they'd mapped out her journeys over the countryside, pre- and post-Eclipse, she'd been surprised to learn that fact. Among about fifteen hundred others...

Azkadellia was the only one who managed to reassure DG she would be fine, that everything would be fine. That there was no reason to worry... when there were very, _very_ large reasons looming in the distance. Everywhere she turned, there was reason to worry.

It was late, and the two sisters were seated, quite unregally, on Azkadellia's bed. Cross-legged, in nightgowns, when both should be sleeping, the scene was reminiscent of one that might have passed fifteen annuals before... that palpable word, ever present... _before_.

The two sat in silence to any that might have viewed them. But, in DG's words, Az was helping her with her homework.

_Has there been any news?_ Her sister's voice broke into DG's head, as quiet as life. Azkadellia played absently with the embroidering on the edge of her pillowcase. The pillow sat in her lap, hugged up against her stomach.

_No, none. Ever. I think Glitch is holding out on me. _It was getting easier to do this. All she had to do was think it, and it happened. How... how, she didn't know. It just did.

Az smirked. _I don't think he's holding out on you, DG. Maybe there really isn't any news._

With a sigh, DG considered this. She shifted; Azkadellia's bed was much more comfortable than hers.

There was a knock on the door. Azkadellia called out an order to come in, the first verbal word spoken in the room in over an hour.

It was Jeremy Hass that stuck his head into the room. DG looked at him, confused.

"Hass, I thought you left to go home."

Taking this as a formal invitation to fully enter the room, the young corporal stepped out of the door frame. His face looked tired, his shoulders beginning to slump with the weight and length of the day. "DG, there is someone here that needs to talk to y–"

Hass was interrupted as Ambrose burst into the room, wearing an indignant grimace and flailing his arms as if his bones were actually made of straw. "I don't need to be announced! Out of my way!"

DG clambered off the bed, watching Glitch with an amused smile. "Gentlemen, please, no fighting," she teased, glad for the break from practicing and repracticing her magic. But one look at the advisor's face... "Whats the matter?"

Glitch's face had become quite serious as he handed her a folded piece of paper. It was thick, brown, and unsealed. Flipping over once before unfolding it, she saw the outside of it bore only some form of stamped serial number. Knitting her eyebrows together curiously, she unfolded the paper.

Before she'd even begun reading, Az's voice rang through her head. _Is it from him?_

DG tried to suppress the laugh that threatened. The entire point of this quiet form of communication was the secrecy, she was supposed to be practicing keeping her face a mask – practicing her poker face, as it were.

_I doubt it, he's not really the love note type. Talking about sentiment, so not his thing. He never even asked about my not being a virgin._

Azkadellia audibly gasped. Her eyes leaving the note, she noticed her sister's eyebrows had shot clean up into her hairline, that her mouth had formed an incredulous 'O'. _You weren't a virgin?_

DG burst out laughing.

Glitch was shaking his head... no, Ambrose was. "Your Highness," he said curtly, "I don't see what is so funny about this. Its a very serious matter."

DG frowned, her laugh stifled as quickly as it had come. _It is?_ she thought to herself, as she turned her attention back to the paper. It was a telegram. She sucked in a sharp breath as she read the words, her heart descending quickly. Her stomach churned. _Ohhh, it really is._

**_Little girl, _**

**_You will have your two annuals. Then, it will be mine._**

**_- The Watcher_**

DG gulped; her throat had suddenly gone very dry.

She realized that everyone was watching her expectantly. She went to tuck the telegram into her pocket, but realized her nightdress had none. Pressing it to her chest instead, she cleared her throat, casting a sidelong glance at her sister. Azkadellia looked unnerved.

_I'll tell you later. I have to show this to Mother. Thank you for staying up and helping me._

Azkadellia nodded. "Please send Lt. Cain in, there are some things I'd like to discuss with him about tomorrow's itinerary."

DG gave her sister a quick squeeze before heading for the door. "Lucky Jeb," she said as she walked out of the room, and though she heard nothing, she could have sworn she heard an indignant cluck from her sister echoing in her mind.

There was a scuffle of bodies outside the door as one was sent into the chambers of the Princess Royal, another sent away with the assurance that Ambrose was more than completely capable of watching over DG on the four-story trek to her parents' suite, and a pajamaed princess tried to sneak away from the three men unnoticed.

Glitch, however, was paying a remarkable amount of attention and caught up with her before she'd gotten very far. He followed closely behind her as she made her way upstairs. She didn't take the lift, instead seeking the refuge of the stairs. As late as it was, they came across no staff, only the third-shift guards.

In the stairwell, Glitch worked up the courage to reach out and catch DG by the arm.

"What exactly does the telegram mean, DG? Who is 'the Watcher'?"

The princess slowed, then stopped. With a sigh, she sat down directly in the middle of the flight, patting the space to her right, inviting him to join her. Stretching out his lanky frame, he did so; a man who, despite his height, could get comfortable anywhere.

"The telegram is from the Commander," she said slowly. Glitch made a strange noise in his throat, but she continued to speak again quickly, before he could cut in with his disapproval. "And he means the Emerald. I promised him the Emerald."

His eyebrows raised, eyes widening; he looked away from her to stare at the wall, to take in what she'd said. He was speechless, so she carried on.

"After we find a way to destroy the magic of the stone, its going to be just another gem. Pretty, but useless. I promised it to him so he'd leave our family alone," she said, her words dropping off low and soft. Oh God, he'd better stop her soon because if she continued to talk, she just might cry.

When he finally did look at her, she wished he hadn't. He looked so utterly dejected at the news, if she hadn't been the one to cause that look, she might have been forced to look away. "How many other secrets are you hiding, DG?" he asked.

She stared at him for a minute; Glitch, his pale skin, his sad eyes. Nothing but concern, despite the bite in his tone.

She took a moment to choose her words carefully, knowing this wasn't about covering her ass or trying to get out of trouble. He just wanted the truth... and that was... "I didn't mean for it to be a secret," she said matter-of-factly. She ignored him when he opened his mouth to speak. "You want to try guilting me about it, I have about a hundred reasons why I did it, and you're _more_ than welcome to get me started."

He considered her threat, then promptly shut his mouth with a loud snap.

She took this as a cue to continue. "Honestly," she said slowly, opening up fully to her friend, "when I was explaining the entire thing when I got back from the Tomb, I forgot. I really did. The Gale kind of tacked it on as an afterthought. It was a lot to remember."

Glitch nodded understandingly. "So the Gale is the one that told you to give the stone to the outlanders?"

The princess gave a little hum of affirmation.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "we'd better get up and go to see your parents. The Queen is going to want to see this as soon as possible. And DG... you'd better remember anything else they need to know," he advised soundly.

DG tried to smile. "No, thats everything."

The smirk coming from the advisor was skeptical, but he didn't say anything else. He helped her stand, and walked behind her as she clutched the telegram tightly, wishing desperately that next time she opened it, it might say something different.

As the two came out of the stairwell, they walked quietly along the passage until they came out at the far end of the grand, mirrored entryway. As they crossed to the opposite wing, the light from the city filtering down from the high windows catching and glinting in the mirrors along every wall, something caught DG's eye. Something... different. Like misted star bursts, so very like the lights coming in from the window, only not the same...

"Wait," she said, holding out a hand to Glitch. She stepped away from him, across the tiled floor, until she was standing directly in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

In the reflective glass, she saw Glitch come up behind her, study the mirror as she did.

"Whats the matter?" he asked.

Mouth slightly ajar, she shook her head. Her eyes searched along the wall, trying to catch the same strange, ethereal twinkling, but... nothing.

"I don't know. Nothing, I guess. Come on," she said with a sigh. "Lets go."

* * *

***

* * *

All was quiet, until the door burst open, and two people stumbled through into the dark room. They made no move for the lights as the woman began to shed her clothes, article by article, leaving a trail strewn from door to bed; gloves, dress, heels, stockings, garters... without having to speak, or ask, her companion's hands fell upon her back, loosening the laces of her corset, helping her to shimmy out of it, until she stood next to the bed in only a slip.

The Annual celebration had gone on far too long, and it was near dawn. Across the city, fireworks still popped randomly in the sky, though all now still awake were too drunk to notice or be startled by the noise and light. Somewhere past the towers surrounding them, past the walls, past the lake, the first sun was beginning to rise on this, the first day of the new year, this first annual of freedom from oppression.

This dawn... the suns rose on a new, free world.

The importance struck neither of the two, as she sat down hard on the bed and began to unpin her hair. She'd counted as they'd gone in, and she counted now as they came out. Whispering to herself, _five, six, seven..._ as she watched him sit down in a chair, take off his heavy boots.

"Will you stay for a while?" she asked him softly, the first words spoken since they'd left the party.

"'Course I will," was his response, as the boots hit the floor with a thud. "You don't have to ask." There was a sigh of relief from him then that made her smile.

She saw his silhouette move across the bedroom, navigating around the furniture, the paths of darkness they both knew so well. She finished pulling out the last pin – the fifteenth – and leaned over to place the load of them onto the bedside stand. He sat down beside her as she shook her hair free, moaning at the pain in the roots of her hair as the tresses were released. Automatically, his hands went into her hair, massaging her scalp, the back of her neck. She let her head fall forward, sighing her appreciation.

"I don't know how many more of these balls I can take," she muttered, as his rough, skilled fingers worked circles behind her ears, at the joints of her jaw.

He snorted, though not unkindly. "As many as its gonna take, you're gonna have to attend."

She found herself giggling then. "And I'll drag you to each and every one."

There was a smile in his voice when he responded. "Yes, but at least I don't have to get all dressed up. I can wear my uniform. And I don't have to dance, either."

There was heavy silence then. He would have danced, they both knew, if only he'd been allowed to be her partner. Their eyes had met too many times across the room as she'd been swept out by one noble, and then the next, and then the next, until the entire night had passed in a haze of spin and turn. She'd seen too many people, too many faces, heard too many kind words and more than a few unkind ones. And he'd watched it all.

His hands moved down to her bare shoulders, keeping their rhythm as he rubbed the ache from her body. The burden she carried on her, the weight of it at all times too much for one person to bear, but alone she did it... until the doors of her private chambers were closed. And then, behind those doors, when all masks were dropped, he could be there for her. And he always was.

"What time are the maids in this morning?" he asked her, his voice a whisper against her skin, a breath, barely there. His thumbs slid underneath the silk straps of her slip, pulling them down her arms; replacing the touch of silk with his lips, warm kisses fluttering on her flesh.

She smiled, a gesture lost in the darkness. "Nine," she said, trying to keep her voice firm, trying not to be lost in the feel of him, the rough pads of his fingers as his lips slid up to the slope of her neck. His kisses were always light, feathery; soon, if she allowed him, the kisses would grow hot, wet, and firm. Tentative steps onto ice, testing for solidity, safety.

"That gives us some time then, doesn't it?" She could hear intention dripping from every word he spoke. Her smile widened.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to sleep instead?" she teased. "You must to be tired, too."

He snorted in amusement against her neck, before nipping her with his teeth. The tiniest of cries escaped her mouth. "No, not tired," he said, as he heard the small noise she'd made. He leaned over, repeated the gesture on the other side of her neck, a little harder. Testing the ice with a little more of his weight. "I want to feel you."

"You are feeling me," she said with a smirk. Whenever the door closed, he was there, gentle fingertips that somehow always escalated into rough grabs, a little push and shove that left them both panting and moaning. He was always ready, always willing... but also always accepting if she wasn't ready.

"Az..." Her name, on his lips, always a magic of his very own.

With a contented sigh, she gave herself over to him, to play his game. She leaned her head back, baring her neck to him to be devoured. The assault of his kisses turned warmer, warmer, until he was scorching her flesh. Teeth ghosted over her, reminding her of her own skin, her own humanity. She let him handle her, she felt safe in his hands, safe enough to relax, to feel, to cry...

He moved off the bed to stand before her, and she helped him shed his uniform. Memories threatened with every button, with every pull of fabric... another body, strong and lithe; another chest, bare and sculpted; the gentle hands she used to push away his jacket reminded her too much of her own hands, before, uncontrolled, as they ripped at a leather coat, the clink of armor as it fell needlessly away. Another man, blonde, cruel, a man after her own heart – the Sorceress's heart, no, not hers. If the Witch had even had a heart... he would hold it. She'd favored him above all the rest... though she'd grown disappointed in him, as his vulnerability, humanity, was shown through...

He was shaking her. "Az..." He knew, she was gone. He'd told her once, he knew when she drifted away. The glazed look in her eyes, her lips parting, fear etching into her frown...

She looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, before opening her thighs, pulling him to her, down upon her. Cradling his still trousered hips, she kissed his face, neck, bare shoulders frantically, hooking her ankles around the backs of his legs, dragging him close.

"Jeb," she whimpered, tears coming to her eyes as she tried to shake away the face she saw that wasn't the kind, youthful face of the young man pressed against her, the memory of a cold smirk, the biting gray eyes of her fallen... "Take it away. Please, just... please..."

She fought to see him in the almost non-existent light, as he raised on his knees, pushing her slip up around her hips; frustrated, impatient, she reached out, fumbling with his belt and fly... he was hard, waiting, if she could only... growling, she finally managed the buckle, the zipper. She shoved his pants down before grabbing him by the shoulder and hauling him down to her.

With a hand between them, Jeb positioned himself and entered her roughly, a guttural cry escaping him at the sensation, the pull on his erection as he buried himself deep inside her. She was clinging to him now, fighting back tears, laying soft kisses on his cheek as he began to move.

Az hooked her ankle around his leg again, and though he tried to move slowly, to savor their time together, with every withdrawal she jerked him hard towards her. The buckle of his belt was digging into her thigh, keeping her grounded, in the moment, the pain of it coupled with the friction of his hardness within her kept it all at bay... overwhelmed, staggering underneath the pressure of memories that were and weren't her own, she held on tight to him. He was the only thing... the only thing...

He pulled his head back to look down at her. This close, though he could see the glow of her skin, it was hard to make out her eyes. The tiny, pathetic cries leaving her throat with every inward thrust touched him too deeply; he didn't know how this closeness, this loving, helped her when she became lost like this, he'd only learned in the past months that it did. That the touch of his hands banished something hidden inside of her, something she couldn't chase away on her own.

With his body, his tongue, his breath, he exorcised her.

* * *

_Author's Note II: To anyone that doesn't know, I love me some reviews. I am, as they say, a review whore. I'm not ashamed. Expect extras to come soon, such as cast pictures, and all that fun stuff. Now press that button and feed my insecurity. :P_

_Also, sadly, I feel it needs pointing out that I don't know how fast I'm going to be writing these chapters. Of course, my aim would be to update every day, but in all honesty, it might be every second, third, or fourth day. I doubt I'll let it go much longer than that, however._

_Thanks to: KLCtheBookWorm, Queen Isabella, Erin at LJ, and wonderful LoA members Kori and Rayne. (And I promise my A/N's aren't all going to be this long!)  
_


	2. Chapter Two: Winter and Spring

_Author's Note: Apparently I confused some people, so I'll be explicit: The first scene of this chapter takes place in mid January - the previous Az/Jeb scene at the end of the last chapter was The Annual (New Year's Day); the second scene is mid-March. Trying to take us up to August, and then the story goes chronologically ..._

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**Chapter Two**

_Winter – Spring_

The new annual opened with fierce winds, and numbing cold. Though the suns shone bright on mostly clear, cloudless days, they seemed to have no warming effect on the world they stood watch over.

It was well into January before Cain received any leads as to the whereabouts of Zero. One snowy evening, he finally managed to track down, not the Longcoat, but his second wife. It hadn't been easy. Aleas Forester had gone into hiding almost as well as her fugitive husband, living under a fake surname, in some Gods-forsaken corner of the Zone.

Settled now on her front porch, he listened before knocking. The sounds coming from within were entirely domestic, and nothing at all seemed amiss, except for the stranger standing in complete silence outside the door.

Wyatt heaved a sigh, and rapped his knuckles on the door. A few moments passed before the door was pulled inward, and he found himself looking into a pair of sharp, turquoise eyes, which widened slightly at the sight of him. The woman, beautiful, dejected, tired, shook her head, disappointed, before stepping back to allow him inside.

Cain smirked, and his feet stayed planted. "Hello, Aleas."

The woman's plump cheeks quivered for the briefest moment before falling as her lips curved into a frown. "I was hoping they'd send someone else after him." She waved her arm then, gesturing him into the small house. "You want to get in here before someone sees you?" There was a hint of terror in her voice. Obligingly, Cain crossed the threshold, and she closed the door softly behind him.

"You know who I am?" he asked, a bit casually. She'd been warned; it would make this more difficult.

"Of course. He made sure that I knew who _you_ were." Never in his life had he been spoken to so accusingly just for being himself. This didn't change the fact that she'd allowed him through the door without argument. Interesting. "Can I offer you anything?" She motioned for him to take a seat in an old armchair by the fire. Though he moved towards the mantel, he didn't take a seat, and with a shake of his head, he turned down her offer.

Pursing her lips together in an unhappy line, Aleas Forester surveyed her guest. "I don't know where he is, Mr. Cain."

Cain smirked, and walked slowly the length of the mantel. A few faded photos sat in broken frames, faces he'd never seen before and would never see again after this night. He could feel Aleas's intense eyes biting into the back of his neck, but he made no move to indicate that he'd even heard what she'd said. But he had... he had.

"So, how're you holdin' up under all this snow, Mrs. Forester?" He bit his tongue to keep from calling her by her real surname, this new 'Mrs. Z.'

She surveyed him skeptically for a moment before answering. "I'm doing just fine, thank you. I don't see how my welfare is any concern of yours, however." Her sneer, though genuine, was short lived. While he stood next to the fire, she collapsed into one of the chairs she'd vaguely waved him toward. She watched him expectantly, eyes searching, face impassive but for the tiniest of frowns tugging at her mouth. The girl was, at most, in her mid-twenties, and seemed to cement Zero's affinity for dark-haired, feisty women.

"I'm just tryin' to make polite conversation," he said, seriousness etching into the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't know being a conversationalist was a requirement to become a Tin Man," she snapped, a bit harshly. She was on edge and defensive; _almost_ ready to tell him everything she knew.

"Not a Tin Man anymore, technically," he said, trying not to be amused with her. Incensing her to rage could cause her to clam up, the last thing he wanted. He wanted to keep her talking.

"Then what are you doing here?" Her foot tapped impatiently on the floor a few times, and she sighed.

Cain took a moment to study the woman; she was Northern, he could tell by her accent, beautiful, with eyes that seemed to lash and bite. He'd been able to dig up very, very little on the woman, which only suggested that Zero had found her somewhere... _unsavory. _Her bearing seemed to suggest a rich, cloistered upbringing, but at the same time, as he watched her, she seemed to notice... she crossed her legs under her skirt, sensuality dripping from every pained movement.

Trouble.

"_What_," she repeated, her voice dropping a dangerous octave, "are you doing here?"

He smirked. "I don't think I need to answer that. I think you know."

With a sigh, she pushed herself out of her chair. She walked over to him slowly, circling him, her intense eyes following him as she walked the worn paths of the hearth. "I told you when you walked through my door, Mr. Cain, that I don't know where my husband is."

Again, his smirk widened, and he suppressed an urge to smile. "Far be it from me to tell a lady she's lyin'."

Aleas Forester raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "You think I'm lying?"

Cain had to clear his throat before answering, to stop the chuckle that wanted to choke out of him. "Through your teeth."

She shook her head as she studied him without speaking, her lips curving into an unhappy line before pursing together, almost disappearing. Tension was settling in her posture, and her eyes left him to search the floor for something that wasn't, couldn't be, there. Standing before her fireplace in silence, hands resting on either side of his belt buckle, he waited until she began to speak.

It took a while, but when she started, he wasn't disappointed.

"I haven't seen him since before the new year, and there's been no word. I can't tell you where he is."

"He left you with no word at all?"

She shook her head. "No, and I only saw him for as long as it took him to bring me from Central City, here to Fog's Bank."

Cain nodded. "How long've you been here?"

"Late October... just before the snow."

Another silence fell between them. She was still standing too close. He tried to quell an anger inside, one that threatened to bubble up at the thought of this young thing protecting a monster, thinking him her hero. Impatience, or anger, would get him nowhere.

"Listen," he said, after her strange turquoise eyes had found his, as she still stood so dangerously close. "You're not doin' anyone any favors."

She smirked up at him. "I'm doing _him_ a favor."

Cain grimaced, trying to control the growl in his voice when he snapped at her. "He doesn't deserve any favors!"

Aleas's eyes widened for the briefest of moments before she sighed; frowning, she put her hands on his shoulders, gripping him hard through his service jacket. The contact he barely felt, but the raw emotion fanning off of her was hard to ignore. It occurred to him then that though she might have loyalty, she was just another lonely, abandoned girl. And those, he'd learned, were more than just trouble.

"He didn't tell me where he was going, Mr. Cain. Only that he was going into hiding. He suggested I keep my head down." There was a twinkle in her eyes then, and he saw, the barest glance, where this was going. He caught her hand as it snaked down his chest, towards his belt. When he pulled her hand away from him, gripping her wrist tight, she grinned at him. "You don't think I should keep my head down?"

Cain looked towards the ceiling then, heaving a sigh. _Women_.

"No," he grumbled, pushing her away to keep her at arm's length, though he didn't let go of her. With his hands on her upper arms, he wasn't about to let her go anywhere.

"John was right about you, you know," she said, with a snort of contempt. "Once a Tin Man, always a Tin Man. Soul of steel, and heart of gold."

Cain only smirked, unsure of whether to be insulted or flattered.

"Tell me what you know about where the Longcoats have headed." His demand was firm; he wanted to convey that he was done playing her game.

Aleas quirked her head, a birdlike mannerism that reminded him, for a moment, of DG. Her eyebrows knit together, in amusement or confusion, he couldn't quite read. Then she smiled. "What makes you think I would know where the 'Coats went?"

Cain turned his head slightly, studying her. Before he could speak, however, she burst out laughing.

"You think he went into hiding with them?" He let go of her, and doubled over, she backed away a few steps. The laughing continued, uncontrolled. She watched him, almost having to hold her side in her fit of giggles. "I don't believe this. You honestly think...?" A sharp intake of breath, almost a snort, straightened her back, bringing her back to herself a little, but she couldn't hold a straight face. "I don't know why he thought he'd have to worry about you coming after him. You have no idea, do you?"

Wheels started to turn in Cain's head, and it didn't take much to figure out what she was talking about. Zero had gone into hiding, not only from the Army of Resistance, but from his former company as well. After all, if it had somehow gotten out just how much information he'd revealed during his 'torture'... the entire storm on the Tower had been based off what he'd told his captors.

She was watching him, glaring with her strange eyes. The laughing, whatever had overcome her, had passed. "If you've gotten all you needed, Mr. Cain, I think its time you were leaving. There are eyes everywhere in this village. I don't need you drawing any attention to me."

Cain stood next to the mantel, staring down into the dying flames. With a sigh, and a tip of his hat, he walked across the small living room to the doorway. A waste of time, coming here had been nothing but a waste of time. He heard her let out a breath of relief when he reached the door, but then he turned towards her again, doorknob in hand. His blue eyes stared hard. "Did he tell you who let him out of the suit?" he asked, his voice low.

Aleas's eyes flicked nervously to his. This woman was incredibly cold, hard, but seemed to be relenting; she nodded.

He waited, but she didn't speak. "Well, who was it?" he asked, trying not to make the demand harsh.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but found the words wouldn't come easily. Sighing, she shook her head, cleared her throat, tried again. "Just some kid. A resistance brat, I think. Whoever he was, he's dead now."

Cain raised an eyebrow. "Zero killed him?"

Again, the young woman nodded, her dark hair catching the light from the fire, turning the brunette tresses into a strange fiery gold. "From what I understand," she said slowly, and Cain got the idea she understood the situation well, "he killed the poor little bastard before he'd been out twenty minutes."

He closed his eyes as he let this information process. He imagined some innocent kid, too much like DG, wandering in, visions of heroics dancing in his head... unleashing a danger, Zero's crazy cold gray eyes, all pathetic rage, disillusionment, mesmerized by suit-induced insanity.

Jeb... they'd been wrong to leave it for so long. One more innocent body to top his conscience.

Again, he tipped his hat. "Sorry to bother you, Ma'am," he said politely, as if the words and actions that had transpired between he and Aleas Forester was nothing out of the ordinary. He opened the door, stepped out into the cold night, turning up the collar of his jacket. The door slammed behind him, not another word spoken by Zero's young wife. On the porch, he stood for a moment, looking out into the still, snowy silence.

Shaking his head, he began to walk across the yard. They'd be watching the house, of course, now that they'd found her. But he wasn't to stay in Fog's Bank. There was always a rumor to chase... with a painful twinge in his chest, Wyatt Cain realized it was more likely he'd uncover every other Longcoat in the Zone before he found the one he was truly looking for.

* * *

***

* * *

"DG," said Tutor, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking down at the floor. His tone was the most exasperated she'd ever heard him. She tried, _tried_, to look contrite, but she was having an awfully hard time taking the man seriously. In fact, she was having a hard time not outright hating him for his constant _constructive_ criticism. The beaded, restrictive, long trained _Titanic_ dress she was wearing might have had something to do with it, too. The ribs of the corset felt like they were tightening on their own...

"I'm really sorry," she said, when she realized he wasn't going to continue speaking. "Lets try again."

Hass, the poor man roped into being her dancing partner when Ambrose was nowhere to be found, was trying his best to look sympathetic to the old teacher's cause. Amusement was dancing in his eyes, however, as he stood back and surveyed the scene. To his credit, he was in no need of the dancing lessons. He'd even managed to catch her when she'd tripped over his feet – or maybe she'd tripped over her own feet.

_Yes, blame the guard. Always blame the guard,_ DG thought as she watched Tutor expectantly, waiting for him to give the order to continue. It didn't come.

Instead, the old man heaved a great sigh. When he looked at her, his normally sad eyes were firm, serious. A little angry.

"Princess," he said shortly. "Do you realize just how many patrons are going to be attending the Farine's Night celebration next week?" Though he paused, it wasn't enough time for her to give an answer. "Hundreds of dignitaries from across the country."

DG frowned. She already knew this. Laying more pressure on her shoulders wasn't going to make her feet move the right way. An increasingly familiar heaviness was setting in her shoulders. When she opened her mouth to speak, Tutor held up an impatient hand.

"You are going to be expected to entertain these guests," the old man continued. "All eyes will be on you."

DG laughed. "No they won't." It was highly improbable.

"Yes, they will, because unless you start to take this seriously, you're going to make a fool of yourself!" Tutor snapped.

She felt her anger begin to bubble, but even at his harsh words, her easily incensed temper did little to quell the fact that he was right. Both she and Azkadellia were going to be on display, showcased; it was going to be up to her to draw most of the attention off of Az, and her preferred way of doing that was not going to be falling on her ass.

"Now, are you ready to make an honest effort?" Tutor asked, noticing his point had been driven home.

DG opened her mouth to argue that she'd been making nothing _but_ an honest effort when the massive doors at the end of the ballroom were thrown open. Ambrose broke through them at a full run, headed straight for the three people gathered near the ceiling-high windows.

"Finally decided to join us, Master Ambrose?" Tutor called out jovially, much more forgiving of the advisor than the princess.

Ambrose brought himself to a full halt once he'd reached them only long enough to grab DG by the hand. She didn't even have enough time to look or feel shocked before she was almost hauled off her feet. "I just need her for a few minutes, Hass," Ambrose said apologetically, but firmly, indicated that the guard was to stay put. "I'll bring her right back." The last part he called over his shoulder, as he'd already begun dragging her towards the doors.

DG looked behind her to see Hass and Tutor watching after her, dumbstruck, as she was pulled from the room. Her gown and heels didn't make running at his pace entirely possible, but Glitch didn't seem to notice. "Where's the fire?" she demanded as she nearly lost her footing.

Her friend didn't take the time to answer, only tossed her a patronizing look over his shoulder as he slowed only slightly to accommodate her.

Two corridors and several startled maids later, she began to worry. "Glitch, what happened?" she asked, breathlessness masking the fear that was beginning to creep up her pessimistic spine. "Is it Az? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Why wouldn't she be fine?" he asked, a bit unconvincingly. His grip on her hand was tight, and she was completely lost, both in the situation and their surroundings. She had no idea where he'd led her; she hoped to hell Ambrose was the one driving, because Glitch's sense of direction was just...

"Here!" he exclaimed, jerking them both to a sudden stop. The unexpected cessation of movement sent her crashing straight into his back. Trying to catch her breath, she leaned against the wall next to the door he'd stopped at, holding a hand to her stitching side.

"Okay, crazy person," she moaned grumpily. "Tell me what the _hell_ your problem is."

He was ignoring her. He threw the door inwards, grabbed her by the arm again, and moved her strategically, as one might a chess piece. She was of half a mind to clock him with some of the new moves he'd been teaching her when a movement inside the room caught her eye.

Glitch had brought her to an out-of-the-way room of unknown purpose. The furniture was mismatched, awkwardly placed, and the curtains were drawn. But, even in the weak light, she could make him out. She'd have known his silhouette anywhere.

"Wyatt!" she exclaimed, as Glitch let go of her arm and retreated. When she looked back at him, as he closed the door behind him, he gave her a sly grin and a wink, before his face disappeared and the door was shut.

A soft chuckle from behind her. "You're pretty dressed up for two in the afternoon."

DG rolled her eyes as she turned to face him, unable to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. "I'm being taught to spin and twirl like a proper princess," she said with a firm nod, as she took a step towards him. He began to move as well, and they met somewhere in the middle. His arms went about her waist, as hers wound their way around his neck, and they drew together quietly, saying nothing but feeling everything.

"I thought you weren't coming into the city until next week," she said into the rough fabric of his service jacket. He was back to G.I. Cain, someone she was growing just as fond of as the Tin Man he always seemed to fall back into.

"Neither did I, Kiddo, until yesterday morning," Cain said, leaning back a bit to see her face. Her hair was pulled back, none of it obstructing his view of her.

"How long?"

He frowned. "I'm gonna be headin' out within the hour."

DG's eyes widened. "_What_?" Her demand was harsh, and she slapped a hand uselessly against his chest. She looked away from him, her eyes falling on his rough, stubbled chin, downwards to his neck, straight to the collar of his jacket, wide open, a few wiry, blonde curls peeking out from the top of his shirt. Refusing to speak anymore, she ran her tongue along her teeth, pursed her lips.

He stood and accepted her silence. After all, though she'd gotten upset, cried out, hit him, she hadn't pulled away. Staying beside her, his arms solid around her, was his next move; he waited for hers.

It came after a few minutes of their precious time had passed. A subtle shift in position, a sigh fluttering past lips still pressed against his shoulder; her arms about his neck tightened ever so slightly. With that, he knew he was forgiven, and without wasting another second, he moved a hand up to cup the back of her neck, giving her head back so he could place a kiss upon her mouth. She sighed into him, eagerly responding, gripping him hard and pulling him down to her. What had begun as something tender and sweet quickly became fierce and aggressive, until she was breathless, moaning soft and low, and he was forced to pull away before their kiss got the better of his self control.

"Sorry," she whispered sheepishly, when she saw the torn look settling into his eyes. "I've just been waiting a while for that." The grin that spread across her lips then was impish; she was delighted at the attention.

"Mmm," he hummed, studying her face, her eyes, drinking in what he could while he could. Though she blushed, she shamelessly explored his face in the same hungry way, her hold on the back of his neck reflexively tightening, loosening.

"Will you still be in for Farine's Night?" she asked, and immediately wished she hadn't, when he sighed, and shook his head. "So I'm trading three days next week for an hour right now?" He nodded, not adding on that it was something closer to a half-hour. "So you're not going to celebrate next week?" she asked, following the train of questions, letting her mouth run on so her brain might not start, so that her lips were moving and not completely still, and aching for him.

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders, and the smirk he gave her was non-committal. "My family never celebrated Farine's Night anyway, its a Northern holiday."

"Oh," she said slowly. She extracted her arms from around his neck and laid her palms flat on his chest, tucking her elbows into the embrace still about her. She was looking up at him, straight into his face, his cool eyes. "Did you know its a holiday on the Other Side, too?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Oh is it?"

She grinned. He always seemed interested when she began to talk of the world that existed separate from this one. "Its a religious feast day, honoring a saint. Most people used it as an excuse to wear green and get drunk." He was watching her now, amused.

"And you'd rather be celebratin' that?" he asked.

"Oh definitely," she said with a laugh. "The gown I'm going to be wearing to the Farine's Night ball is green, in honor. I put my foot down." Then her eyebrows perked, her eyes lightening. "And hey, now you're not going to be there to keep taking my champagne away. See? Bright side."

The corner of his mouth quirked into a delicious smile, his lips curving so sensually that she found herself biting her own with the thoughts that began to rove through her head about his mouth. Did her desire show in her eyes? His gaze seemed to turn to smoldering as he looked down at her.

"I'm sorry I won't be here to see you, Darlin'," he said softly; she could hear the regret in his voice.

With a sigh, she forced a smile, though the brightness of it seemed to falter. "Its not your fault, Wyatt. Its just the way things are right now. I know that; you don't have to apologize."

Cain chuckled, and leaned in a little closer, so his mouth was next to her ear. "Doesn't mean I'm not sorry that I can't be there to peel that green dress off your shoulders."

Her breath seemed to hitch once as she drew it in, a blush rising hard and fast. To be here in his arms, though she dreamed of it too often, wasn't enough for either of them, and this fleeting time together was nothing short of torture. Her body seemed to respond to him no matter how long or how short their time together was. Though she saw him every few weeks, as his promise from the very beginning had been, finding time to be alone was difficult, if not impossible. Though she'd settled into his arms, always able to find a secret spot for a clandestine embrace, to be truly alone, to have him press deep into her, to have the taste of him on her lips... it had been months. Too long.

If he noticed the direction her thoughts had taken her, that she'd stiffened in his arms, that her breathing had changed, he didn't comment. He only pressed a warm kiss to her temple, his lips lingering longer than they should. Disentangling themselves, the two heated bodies separated, the princess sitting down with an awkward flop onto a dusty settee, the Tin Man leaning against a desk, watching her.

"So," she said, looking around, up down and anywhere but him; she tried to keep her voice nonchalant. "I heard you got shot again."

Cain snorted. "During a raid, yeah."

She still refused to look at him. The curtains were quite interesting, heavy and velvety-looking, and clashed horridly with the sofa she sat on. She wouldn't ask him about the raid itself, no never... she'd heard the details from Ambrose three weeks previous when it had happened. It had been enough to send her stomach reeling, and the lump in her throat had taken two days to go away. So, instead she asked him, "How many times does that make?"

His voice caused her eyes to flick inadvertently to him. "Makes five."

She was about to ask about the two times she hadn't heard the stories for, but decided against it. Instead, she searched her brain for a subject change.

"Have you seen Jeb already?" she choked out, grasping at straws. Anything to distract her. She closed her eyes, and let her head fall into her hands.

"Yeah, he came to my office at the Armory this morning," Cain said slowly. She could _feel_ his eyes on her, she didn't need to open her own to know that he was watching her. "Look at me, DG," he said, though she'd thought he was done talking. Acquiescing, she lifted her head from her hands and gave him a weak smile.

"Have you received any more news from him?" he asked, his voice too serious. The telegram, the Commander... from the bite in his tone she could tell it still bothered him, that lingering threat still not yet dealt with.

DG rolled her eyes, looked away, shook her head. This was the third time she'd been given only a short time with him. In the three months, she'd seen him only eighty-seven minutes. Pathetically, she'd counted. This little junk-room tryst would bring them to around one-hundred and five. Still less than two hours.

"Any more dreams?"

Not a simple yes or no question, damn him. "Just the same one," she said dejectedly. She wondered how many of their stolen minutes had been used recounting, visiting these same old questions. "Everything's been really quiet," she said, but immediately second guessed herself. There were the lights, strange, unrefracted, unreflected. Always unexpected, gone when she tried to get a better look. She'd begun avoiding mirrors, avoided the grand hall on her parent's residence floor altogether.

She didn't tell him. She didn't think she could handle the way his eyebrow would cock, like punctuation at the end of a sentence. She was done making the crazy-person comments when she had nothing to back it up.

"How is your sister holdin' up?"

She sighed, torn between annoyance that he wanted to talk about Az, and appreciation that he was concerned enough to ask about her. Only Glitch asked about the future queen with such disquietude. No one else asked at all. "I don't know where she gets her energy," DG said, resigning and falling back into the cushions. She put her hands in her lap, worried her fingers together. "She goes all day. I don't know how she does it. Benefits, parliament sessions, openings, state dinners; one thing to the next, to the next, _all day_. And then she still can sit for hours with Ambrose in the study about how to run a federal government. I don't know how she does it." She wasn't sure if it was pity or reverence in her voice just then, and she cast a side long glance at Cain.

He was shaking his head. "Guilt is a helluva drive, Kiddo. You know that."

Guilt had driven her up the Tower to save her sister; guilt or love, or maybe both. Was it really that same sense of guilt driving Azkadellia into rebuilding the country? That same resonating call... like ripples in the water that carried you farther and farther on the momentum of one incident. The stone's drop, the two little girls wandering headlong into a cave without the common sense to turn around.

The next few moments passed in silence, as the two studied each other; blue met blue, time and time again skipping away, only to be drawn back; that was always inevitable.

Finally, Cain pushed himself away from the desk. "Walk with me downstairs," he said softly, holding out a hand for her. Without hesitation, she used his hand to haul herself to her feet. She was getting pretty steady on the heels, she could pride herself on that. "I'll try to get some real leave next month," he told her as they walked from the room together. Though his hand reached out past her to grip the doorknob, he didn't turn it, didn't open the door. Instead, he leaned in, backing her a few feet until she was sandwiched between the door and his solid, imposing form. She let a grin slide up to her face then. _Oh, poor, poor me._

"That sit all right with you, Princess?"

She bit her lip. "That sits just fine with me." She looked up at him then as he leaned over her, with that wide-eyed stare that she knew always got to him. "But Cain," she said, reaching out to place a hand on his waist, underneath his jacket. She dug her fingernails in, just enough to bite. "If you don't find a way to come to me, I will not be held responsible for my actions." She mustered up her most innocent smile.

There it was, the eyebrow shooting up, creating the most intrigued look in his eyes. "Oh? And what is that supposed to mean?" he asked, clearly amused. But there was an undertone of misgiving as well; he wasn't sure whether to take it as a joke or a threat.

DG smiled wider. "You can fret over that one, Tin Man." She leaned up her toes and placed a small kiss on his lips, still quirked in their smirk. When she pulled away, he growled, yanked her hard against him; his lips crushed down on hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth, exploring, tasting. Clearly, he didn't like her having an upper-hand. Not about to let him tease her, change the rules of the game, she pushed on his chest, disentangling her arms from him, pulling from a kiss that could have easily tossed them into torrid waters had things been different.

"Now lets go downstairs," she said placidly, like nothing had happened. It made her feel powerful, to leave him so exasperated. The unimpressed line to his lips was like some sort of strange vindication. "Unless you want Glitch to try and open this door."

With a heavy sigh, he stepped back and opened the door for her. Feeling a little better, she walked out into the hallway, with Cain close on her heels.

* * *

_Author's Note II: Hit that button! I've been so lonely, waiting since Sunday to post this. *kicks random ffdotnet wall* Reviews are love!_


	3. Chapter Three: Spring

_Author's Note: Wow, this is late. Apologies to _**everyone**_. Special thanks to KLCtheBookWorm and Queen Isabella, for pointing out some areas of the last chapter that needed editing. And BookWorm37 is just awesome, just sayin'. _

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**Chapter Three**

_Spring_

DG sat on the ground, next to a tall, tangle-branch tree. The canopy of leaves above her head filtered the rays of the afternoon suns, causing freckles of shadow and light to dance across her cheek. A cool spring breeze was disrupting the silence, the rush of it stirring through the high leaves, lifting her hair and playing with it as a lover. The forest around her was still, and yet at the same movement dancing to the strange music of nature. It was an absolutely perfect day.

She was enjoying the suns light and the breeze more than she should, she knew, but she couldn't help it. She was supposed to be paying attention – to what, she didn't know. She was supposed to be listening – for what, Glitch hadn't been too specific. He'd sat her down in the lush undergrowth beneath the massive tower of a tree, told her to close her eyes, and left her there.

Minutes ticked away. She opened her eyes, and looked around, but the advisor had disappeared. She sighed, and closed her eyes again, but found it impossible to concentrate on her unknown task when the wind was singing as beautifully as it was. She'd spent an entire winter locked inside of the Central City palace, hadn't been outside the city gates since her secret arrival at the end of September, under Cain's protection.

_Cain..._ with no idea where he was, what he was doing, he was just a figment of her overactive imagination.

This wasn't how her afternoon was supposed to have gone. She'd been scheduled to attend a charity auction for the Fire Brigade, but instead Glitch had come to fetch her, saying he was taking her away. Pleased, she'd followed him. This wasn't exactly a walk in the park, and it definitely wasn't a picnic, but she'd take it. She had learned that lesson fast: in the O.Z., you took what you were given, and went with it.

More time passed. Her eyes were open by this time, and she was studying the muted light speckling her flesh, watching the hairs on her arm raise with the cool nip of the breeze that rustled intermittently by. She had to give Ambrose credit; it truly was a beautiful day to be outside. She found herself relaxing, when she was sure he wanted her on her toes.

How long had it been?

"So, what am I supposed to be doing again, exactly?"

Glitch's exasperated voice rang out, disembodied. "You're supposed to be concentrating, and you fail."

DG opened her mouth to argue, but instead decided against it; she shut her mouth, pursing her lips. She looked around once more, a quick darting of her blue eyes, to drink in the scene before her, the suns and the trees and that light, playful breeze, before closing her eyes, and shutting out all the beauty with self-imposed darkness.

"What am I concentrating on?" she called out.

"Nothing. Just concentrate."

It was DG's turn to be exasperated. "That makes no sense."

Glitch chuckled. She couldn't see him, but she could imagine him touching the ghost of a scar, now hidden well by his thick black hair, which still had a tendency to part down the middle. He was the master of making no sense, and yet making perfect sense, once he had you seeing things his way. "You keep losing your focus, DG. You need to stop paying attention to what I'm doing."

"Well, what _are_ you doing?" She looked around, still not seeing her friend.

There was a sharp "_Ah ah_!" and she snapped her head back into place, closing her eyes again. Concentrate, concentrate... the white-water rushing sound of the leaves through the trees could almost remind her, for almost a moment, of a prairie wind through the high grass back home. _Back home. Kansas. Not home, never was..._

She could lie to herself, but in the end, there was a homesickness for the Other Side, even for Kansas, that she wasn't sure would ever go away.

DG tried not to talk. Tried to wipe her mind blank, tried to put herself in a peaceful mental state. But, it was so beautiful here, she was falling into the strange lull of being both relaxed and refreshed, and her brain was too alerted to how wonderful that felt to lock her thoughts up inside her head. Glitch, whatever he was doing, wanted silence. So, she sat; then tongued the back of her teeth for a while. And then... "So why are we really here?"

He sighed, as if realizing her questions wouldn't cease unless answered. "I thought you might like to get away for a bit."

Her laugh came out unrestrained, unladylike. "Really?"

Glitch stepped out from behind another tree of impressive girth then, stretching his arms, arching his lanky frame backwards with exaggerated movement. Daintily, he stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. "Well, I wanted to get away for a bit, and I thought you might like to join me. I hate coming here alone, it makes me feel creepy."

Though incredibly pleased with him, she couldn't help but frown. "That doesn't sound like a good enough reason to get me out of the charity auction this afternoon."

He grinned sheepishly as he plopped down into the leaves and dirt she'd been sitting in. "Azkadellia offered to go in your place."

DG felt her frown deepen almost painfully. "Az shouldn't be doing things like that for me. She's got so much to do already, she's busy all day. The coronation is in August, that's only four months away! Thank you for thinking about me, Glitch, but you should've just let me go to the auction."

Glitch's grin widened, his dark eyes twinkling. "I'm supposed to pass on that you owe your sister a favor." DG smiled. That she could handle. Glitch continued, "But I did promise Tutor I would help you with some of your studies. He said you're having trouble."

Her frown was back. "I'm not having trouble. I'm just not..." She sighed, taking a moment to look for the right words. She was a disappointment to her teacher, with her wild style and her 'carefree' way of looking at everything. That was his word, 'carefree'. She didn't know how she acted carefree, when every magic lesson only reminded her of the troubles she'd had with her Light in the past, and the uncertainty of the task before her that left too much open to wonder.

She knew the kind of power she had, and she was beginning to think that unconsciously, she was holding back, intimidating herself. She knew she was disappointing her old teacher with her reservation. It wasn't hard to call his voice back to her, to hear him chastising her. _You depend too much on your sister... you're too accepting of such mediocre results...how do you expect to overpower the magic in the Emerald when you can barely hold a spell for five minutes?_

DG was too quiet. Glitch quirked his head. "You okay, hon?"

She sighed. "As fine as anyone else is nowadays. If I wasn't stressed out, scared, exhausted, I'd be okay."

Glitch's grin was indulgent. "We all would be."

She looked up. The tangled branches above her head were too thick to make out if it was a cloudless day or not. The light from the twin suns was unrelenting, so she doubted it. The breeze had picked up, rushing past with the slightest hint of push and shove, of a harsh winter left not too far behind, but with the promise of spring in the scent it carried. She had to hand it to Glitch – he had picked a truly perfect day.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," she said, tearing her eyes away from the canopy of wood and foliage, with its strange patches of light and sky, "but I think its time to get back to work."

She was on her feet first, and helping him up. As Glitch walked away, DG held her wrist up to her nose, inhaling deeply the scent of the outdoors, of the wind that was stuck to her clothes. She brushed off her slacks, wiping away the dry, brittle leaves clinging to the material. There was a strange, mechanical whirring sound, then in a wave of dark overtaking light, the forest around her dissolved, disappeared. She was left standing in the middle of an empty, windowless room, and Glitch was fussing over the machine he'd just turned off.

"I still think the transition is a little rough," he was saying absently. "What do you think?"

She held her wrist up; she smelled of dust, like she'd been sitting in a stale, shut off room for the last hour. Looking down, her clothes were spotlessly clean. She sighed. Just think, travel to distant, exotic locations and never have to leave your palace prison! _Every princess will want one, _she thought bitterly, as she eyed the machine Glitch had taken from the Tower. The sudden appearance of Alta Torretta through the illusion the machine had created was disheartening at the very best.

Speaking of other princesses... "What time does Azkadellia get back, do you know?" she asked.

Of course he knew. "By four, I think."

"I think I'll go back to my room until she gets back," DG said after a moment.

"I'll walk with you," Glitch said, and when he followed her out of the room, there was a definite, annoying bounce to his step. Completely rejuvenated, it seemed, and ready to get back to work. In the past eight months since the Eclipse, DG had watched her oldest Ozian friend transform from a zombie walking around in an exhausted haze to a manic workaholic, one to whom the regular rules of twenty-four hour days didn't apply. If he slept at all, she wasn't aware of it.

She made him walk slowly to the elevator, though he wanted to rush; he would bound forward and open doors for her. "Eager to get rid of me?" she teased, though she knew it far from the truth. He only smiled at her, his pale face friendly and dark eyes warm.

As they entered the elevator and stood silently during their ascent, the faint, greenish twinkle tried once again to capture her attention in the mirrored walls of the lift; she could see it out of the corner of her eye, something swimming in the glass, though she knew there was nothing green to be reflected. She ignored it, or tried her best. The light would disappear if she looked straight at it, like a strange Magic-Eye picture. While Glitch used the mirrors to his advantage, to preen and check over his hair, she stared at her feet until they jerked to a stop; when the doors opened, she walked purposefully out, turning down the corridor and leaving him running to catch up.

When they reached her quarters, Glitch gave her a short bow and a long hug. With a promise to send her shadow up to her, Glitch left her alone. Feeling more relaxed now than she had with Glitch in the holographic forest, she kicked off her shoes. She had two hours to sit by herself; he'd done her more of a favor than he knew, and she'd have to thank him later for it. Spare time like this was rare.

The only interruption she received for two hours was Hass, slipping into the room quietly, and taking a seat by the door. It was companionable silence, as they'd run out of things to talk about months before. She was more than used to him, considered the man a friend though she barely knew him. She admired his determination to keep her safe, though she sometimes also found it annoying and meddlesome. Even within the palace walls, she wasn't allowed to walk from one room to another without the corporal close behind.

She opened the curtains, perused the bookshelves. Picked things up, put them back down again. Walked so many circles around the room that Hass made a comment about her putting a track in the rug. She watched the clock, as the minutes ticked slowly by. The mirror over the side table, she stayed away from.

When four o'clock finally rolled around, she stuffed her feet back into her shoes and made for the elevator. Two of Azkadellia's ladies' companions were waiting for the princess; DG merely got into line. When the doors slid open, Az walked out with all the bearing and poise that made DG's heart ache with jealousy every time. Echoes of her smaller self, the younger sister who blindly followed the older... until something grabbed her attention and pulled her off in the opposite direction, Az trailing protectively behind.

_Your adventures have a way of getting me into trouble..._

Azkadellia didn't spot her sister right away, as her brown eyes slid blankly over those that waited for her. She made a dismissive sweeping gesture with her hand, and, with polite curtsies, her ladies' companions nodded their heads and slunk quietly away.

Az's heels clicked on the marble floor as she headed straight for her chambers, Jeb Cain following closely behind. He caught sight of DG, where as Az had already strode away. He nodded for her to follow, and DG fell into step behind him, the three of them forming a strange sort of caravan through the halls of Alta Torretta.

"I'm going to lay down before the dinner tonight," Az said over her shoulder, though she'd barely turned her head.

"Seems like wasted time," Jeb said casually, as DG hurried to walk beside him. In barely five minutes, they had come to the door of Az's quarters, and while she turned with a smile, it quickly disappeared when she realized DG had been following.

"DG!" she exclaimed, and the lost smile was soon replaced with another, though this one altered, as if of a different nature. After a moment of recovery at her sister's sudden appearance, Az reached out to loop her arm through DG's. "Come lay down with me." Her eyes flicked to her guard. "We'll be fine alone, Lieutenant. Take an hour for yourself."

Jeb's lips set themselves into a very familiar unimpressed line. "I'll wait out here, if it please." He reached over and opened the door for the princesses, and ushered them through. He shut the door behind them, and DG found herself alone with her sister.

"How was the auction?" DG asked. She watched as her sister tugged off her gloves, and then began to unpin her hair. "Here, let me," she said, with a hint of pride in her voice. She walked over to her older sister, and held out her hand. The bobby pins appeared in her hand in an instant, faintly glowing at first, and then fading to their normal color. Az's hair tumbled onto her shoulders, and down her back.

"Oh," she moaned appreciatively. "Much better. Thank you."

DG grinned, pleased with herself. "You're welcome." She walked out of the sitting room, into Az's bedroom, and put the pins down on the dressing table. A flicker of green tried to catch her eye. She grumbled at it, _"Leave me alone."_, but the mirror twinkled incessantly at her.

"DG, would you please bring me the hairbrush?" Az called from the sitting room.

Frowning, she scanned the tabletop. While she couldn't call it a mess, for there seemed to be _some_ sort of semblance and order she didn't understand, she could definitely call it over-cluttered. Not seeing the brush immediately, she bent and began to rummage through the top drawer. When her unruly hair fell into her eyes, she flipped it back over her shoulder, and in doing so, caught the glimmer of green teasing her in her sister's vanity mirror. Turning back to the task at hand, she found the brush and extracted it from the drawer. Straightening, she faced her demon.

To her surprise, whatever winked at her from within the mirror didn't disappear, and her mouth dropped open. Almost five months, the light had danced in the mirrors of the palace, crying out for her attention and then vanishing when she tried to get a better look. Randomly, it would appear at first, but then more and more often until seeing it wherever she went was a guarantee. From white to green, it had changed. But never had she been able to look it straight on.

It moved like a ribbon being pulled along through the air, undulating, all flash and glitter. Just a green light, nothing more, and nothing special, but for the fact that it floated, unreflected, behind the glass.

DG reached out and touched the surface of the mirror. The ribbon of light touched her finger from the other side, and damned if it didn't feel warm. She pulled her finger from one end of the glass to the other; the light followed, as if now attached to her fingertip.

"Huh," she breathed. _Look at that. _She squiggled her finger; the ribbon squiggled. Now she was confused. "Az!" she called out. "Could you come here for a second?"

The clicking of her sister's heels on the sitting room floor signaled her approach; the steps were muted by the lush carpet of the bedroom as Az walked through the doorway. "You can't find it?" she asked slowly, as she saw her sister holding her hand up to the mirror of her vanity.

DG held out the brush in her hand, not taking the other away from the glass, forming a three o'clock position with her arms. She waved the brush at her sister; Az walked over to take it. She watched her sister, not a little worriedly. "DG," she said quietly. "What's wrong?"

DG motioned her now free hand towards the mirror. "Tell me you see this," she said, very seriously, as she slowly swept her finger from one side of the reflective surface to the other.

Azkadellia perked an eyebrow. "Tell you if I see _what,_ exactly? The streaks on the glass?" Her eyes flicked towards her sister, who was looking at her imploringly, blue eyes almost quivering with the need there. With a sigh, Az took a few steps closer, watching the glass carefully, until she could see herself. DG was staring hard into the mirror, at the place where her fingertip connected with the glass, and the reflection of her hand.

DG turned her head to stare at her sister. "Really? You don't see this?" Her fingertip skated across the glass again, pulling the green ribbon of light along.

"DG, what are you talking about?" Azkadellia asked her softly, as if she were overexcited and was in need of some quiet. A child, a crazy person.

She felt her expression fall, shatter; she didn't need to see it reflected in the mirror. Yanking her finger away from the glass, she faintly registered the light fading, disappearing as she grabbed the frame and turned it upwards and away from her. Spots of refracted light danced their way up the wall, shimmered on the ceiling. Normal, truly there.

"Wait," Az said, reaching out and turning the mirror upright again. "DG, what do you see?"

With a sigh, DG turned and looked into the mirror. She saw the bedroom reflected behind her, she saw herself, studying the reflection too hard, and she saw her sister, who was studying _her_ too hard. Everything in order, nothing ethereal, nothing out of the ordinary, even for this side of the rainbow.

She took two steps back from the mirror, shaking her head slowly. She was beginning to look insane, even to herself, but... she couldn't deny what she'd seen, or what had happened. However big or small or undetermined at this moment, something had changed.

"Okay," Azkadellia muttered, after realizing her sister wasn't going to answer her outright. "You saw _something_ in the mirror," she said, her voice too serious, too low, that menacing way she didn't like to talk... but sometimes, she slipped into it. Sometimes, it would take over.

The change in tone caught DG's attention. She looked at her older sister, knowing more every passing second that the answer to this wasn't going to land in her lap or jump out of the mirror (she hoped). She was going to have to ask someone, and her sister might know... after all, though it was never mentioned, hadn't she observed the Witch for fifteen annuals?

"Is that normal?" was all she could manage to ask. Carefully, carefully...

She caught Az's eyes in the mirror. "Its not unheard of," her sister said, voice slow, a little more like herself. "What exactly did you see?"

DG didn't like her sister's cautious tone. "Its light," she said, "a weird little green light."

"Like your wisp?"

She shook her head. "No, its not a ball. Its more like a... strip. It moves, kind of... snakes." DG demonstrated, flitting her hand through the air in a waving motion. She turned back to the mirror, and touched the glass, cold again. "Its in the glass, and now apparently I'm the only one that can see it."

"A light." Az pondered this; DG could almost see the wheels inside her sister's head working. "Are you sure you didn't see a face?"

DG snorted. "No, I didn't see a face. I think I'd know the difference." Azkadellia only sighed, shaking her head slowly, purposefully. "Is this bad?"

"I don't know," she told her sister honestly. "I don't think I've ever heard of anyone seeing lights in a mirror before. But... my education is a bit lacking on the subject of Light. I've seen things in the mirror that were never there, but... that was before."

_Ah yes_, DG thought with a sad glance towards her sister in the glass. _Before..._

"I think," DG said, turning around to face her sister, "that I'll go talk to Mother about this."

Azkadellia nodded; she looked unnerved, and a wave of guilt slammed into DG at the thought that she'd caused her sister to look at her that way.

As she caught DG staring, Az tried a tiny, faltering smile. "Send Lt. Cain in, would you? I've decided not to take a nap after all."

* * *

***

* * *

Two weeks later, the April suns had beckoned DG out of her tower prison and into the light.

She sat, cross-legged, on a stone bench, her sketchpad in her lap. The bench was located in the middle of a square, stone plaza, a hulking stone pillar set into each corner. Atop one, a golden brown falcon was perched, watching the garden intently.

Her placement in the garden, despite its innocent place in the suns light, and its nearness to the stone planters that were beginning to bloom with life, was not innocuous. From the advantageous spot, she had a perfect view of the front gate, of the guard-shack, and the driveway. And it was this she sketched.

She heard the footsteps approaching, but was surprised when a body threw itself down onto the bench beside her. She looked over to see the hazel eyes of Jeb Cain watching her, amused.

"Whatcha doing?" he said, in a far more casual manner than he would have inside the palace.

She smiled at him, as she snapped her sketchpad closed. "Nothing. Just passing time until supper. Where is Azkadellia?"

Jeb shrugged. "She's at a meeting with Her Majesty and a group of advisors. With your mother's guards there, I was given a break. Saw you through the window, and I thought I'd come see what you were doing. You're surprisingly alone." DG jerked her head towards the pillar to her right. "Ahh," Jeb said as his eyes fell onto the falcon. "So why are you drawing a picture of the gate?"

"Because," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, as it always had a tendency to waver when she was trying to lie. "I thought the scroll-work in the iron looks pretty interesting. Its turning out nice, I'll show you when its finished."

"Oh," Jeb said, and though she was staring down at the cover of her sketchpad, she could hear the grin permeating his voice. "The scroll-work. Are you sure? 'Cause it looked to me like you were drawing an escape route."

DG sighed, and laid her sketchpad down on the stone slabs at her feet. "What do you want, Jeb?"

"Nothing," he said with a shrug, "I don't know anyone else in the palace, and I've got some of that rare thing called 'free time'."

She found herself laughing. "Well, I'm glad for the company," she said. "Hass isn't much of a talker."

Jeb looked up at the corporal, his mouth quirked in an interested smirk. When he turned back to DG, his eyes were sparkling. "So I hear someone has a birthday coming up," he said, completely out of the blue.

DG laughed, shaking off a double take. "You heard? How could you not? I told her I didn't want any sort of celebration at all, but..." she trailed off, as a delivery vehicle pulled up to the palace. She gestured her hand towards it as the guards let the driver through the gates. "Looks like its gonna be another big thing. No one listens to me." She laughed at this fact, though it kind of upset her.

"Well, a celebration is sometimes a good thing," he said dismissively. "I mean, it brings people together."

She frowned. "Hundreds of people that I don't even know, coming together because my mother asked them. You know," she said slowly, "when I turned twenty, a couple of friends and I drove out to an old abandoned highway with a case of beer and set off some fireworks." She remembered, suddenly, the look on Gulch's face when he'd pulled up to the impromptu party in his squad car... lesson learned: if you're underage and drinking, don't set off fireworks to alert the authorities to your location.

"That sounds better than what your mother and sister have planned," Jeb told her with a sage nod.

"It won't be so bad," she said, though of that she was uncertain.

"If you don't mind my saying," he said slowly, "your mother seems to have a desire to celebrate every holiday the O.Z. has ever had."

She found herself shrugging, a small smile creeping onto her lips. "She says the people need a reason to celebrate. She says that with so much darkness, it takes more than the suns reappearing to make the people forget everything that happened while she was imprisoned."

"And while you were on the Other Side."

She nodded.

"And while your sister was possessed."

Again, she nodded. "So I guess I don't mind lending her my birthday as a reason to give back to the kingdom. I just..." She didn't quite know what to say.

"Well, maybe you'll have a good birthday, despite the black-tie crap," he said, quite certainly. When she looked at him confused, he only offered her a smirk, though his eyes twinkled conspiratorially at her. He stood then. "I'd kiss your hand, but I think you'd probably slug me. So have a good afternoon, Your Highness. And I'm supposed to tell you not to go running off. You might miss something important if you do."

And after leaving her those words of wisdom, he turned on his heel and strode purposefully back to the palace. She thought about calling out after him, but shook the thought out of her head. To catch his attention, she'd either have to yell at him, or chase after him, and both would have the undesired result of drawing attention to herself. So she watched the young Cain walk away.

The falcon above her cried out once. With a sigh, she looked up at him. He was watching her, looking down with his yellow eyes directed on her, studying.

"Don't look at me like that," she huffed, as she looked away, to her feet, and the sketchpad that lay there on the mosaic stone tiles of the plaza. She picked it up, and flipped to the drawing she'd been working on. The guard house, the gate, the fence; looking at it now, she realized she hadn't really done the scroll-work justice.

"_I'm supposed to tell you not to go running off. You might miss something important if you do."_

Strangely enough, she found herself smiling, and for the first time, looking forward to her birthday.

* * *

_Author's Note II: Okay, next chapter is going to be another C/DG reunion - just wanted to say before people stop reading. And if its not the fluffiest, most wonderful, romantic, Cainish (and did I mention fluffy, possibly - but not assuredly - smutty) chapter ever, ya'll can have your money back. Its a Rissy promise! Oh and _**review**_ if you love it, hate it, what have you._


	4. Chapter Four: Spring and Summer

**Chapter Four**

_Late Spring_

DG was tired of being an excuse. She was tired of being a distraction. She was tired of having her voice ignored. No... maybe she was just plain _tired._

She was alone in a sea of faces. At the far end of the ballroom, she could make out her mother, sitting in her place on the dais, a strange, guiding force. Under this woman's benevolence and protection, this daughter of an exalted line, these people could forget that among them dwelt the Fallen, the vessel through which so much evil flowed.

DG watched her mother, the beacon at the top of the hall. The woman's inexhaustible dedication to rebuilding the Zone stretched so far, DG was uncertain if she properly understood the scope of it. Her mother, through her generosity, through her kindness, through her good name, was doing everything in her considerable power to beg forgiveness for herself, for her daughter, and for her line.

For hadn't the Queen forfeited her Light, her power, to save a mere child? Hadn't she left her country defenseless?

How far back the trail of guilt led, DG wasn't sure she even wanted to know. Probably in some Gods-forsaken corner of the O.Z., a little old nursemaid sat in eternal guilt for having let two little princesses out of her sight on that sunny day in Finaqua.

Looking at her mother now, she wondered if it would be possible for her sister to take the throne in August. If Azkadellia could be the ruler that her mother was, maybe the people would accept her. Hadn't she proven herself during that final battle with the Witch? She'd helped to destroy what had imprisoned her for fifteen annuals. DG hadn't killed the Witch by herself, after all.

As was happening more and more lately, as the anniversary of the Eclipse approach, DG heard the words of the Gale, crossing distances, perhaps just a memory, perhaps something more tangible.

_Azkadellia's test comes, the core of it rooted in the kingdom... Her reign shall be her test..._

Looking around, she wondered where her sister was. She'd lost track of everyone in the crowd, except for her mother, who never moved. Somewhere, she thought she heard Glitch's unrestrained laugh. Too many bodies to wander through. Her feet ached, and she wanted nothing more than to sit down. But, she'd learned on Farine's Night she wasn't to take any seat but for the one at her mother's side on the dais, and it was a _very _long walk to the top of the hall, through a gauntlet of strange men wanting to kiss her hand, of fawning nobles, and of polite but pointless conversations with their Central City society wives.

While she was debating her best option on how to make it to the dais, someone behind her cleared his throat, and said quite politely, "Excuse me, Your Highness."

DG plastered her most charming court smile onto her face, and turned to be presented with yet another handsome young nobleman. With dark hair, glittering dark eyes, she could tell right away this one meant business. With his immediately comfortable smirk, she knew he was neither intimidated by her position or her magic. She'd run into a hundred like him already.

Maybe he had political ambitions. Perhaps his reasons were a little more personal. All she knew was that the look in his eye read very plainly, _'Hey baby, meet your knight in shining armor.'_

As she offered her hand, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. What none of these poor fools realized was that she already had her knight, and that no well-dressed noble could ever compare. They all realized eventually, though; when she only smiled, but didn't laugh, when her eyes would skip away, when her attention would slip further and further from all their hard efforts to gain her heart. Eventually, it became clear to them all... the heart of the youngest Gale, the daughter of Locasta, descendant of Dorothy, already belonged to someone else.

"I don't believe we've met," she said pleasantly, resisting yanking her hand back when his lips lingered too long on her skin.

"No, if you'll forgive me, but I've never had the pleasure," he said with a smug smile as he released her hand. She pressed her lips together; the cocky bastard probably thought the pleasure was all _hers_. Another noble with an ego, just what she didn't need at the moment.

"What brings you out tonight?" she asked, trying to speed the whole process along. She hoped he would get the hint that she hadn't asked for his name.

He smiled most winningly, gesturing a hand towards the massive throng of people surrounding them. "Like my countrymen, I am here to celebrate the natal day of the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on."

DG frowned. She'd never heard anything so insincere in her life; she knew it was public opinion that she was _not_ the prettiest of the Gale daughters. "Okay, smooth talker," she said, a little impatiently, "you should move along. I'm going to save you the trouble and tell you straight out: it ain't happening. Please, enjoy the party and leave me alone."

She turned away, but he caught her by the hand. "A little high and mighty for a second daughter, aren't you?"

Without answering, she looked down, studying his light grip on her wrist; then, peeked around. No one was watching, no one had noticed, and Hass seemed to have disappeared. She felt the slip of magic before she had the conscious thought of releasing it. A static charge, a white light surrounding her wrist like a bracelet, and then the nameless noble jumped back with a hiss, cradling his offended hand against his chest with the other. Later, when the night was over, she would learn there were repercussions to zapping the Mayor of Central City's handsy son, but in that moment, she didn't care.

She was done.

Stalking away, she pushed her way through the crowd of oblivious bodies. Done. Like Sarah fighting her way through an ocean of unfriendly masks, she threaded and twisted her way to the edge of the room. Someone made a grab for her arm, but she slipped free. Done. She bumped into someone, who then began to apologize profusely for being in her way. She just ignored it, pushed past, away. _Done_.

Near the east corner by the tall, emerald tinted windows, a hidden door in the gilded wall led to a dimly lit servants passage... somewhere in the intricate design, there was a release lever. Her fingers skimmed the wall, searching, but she came up with nothing. With a frustrated growl, she waved her hand, felt the warmth of Light, and the door burst open forcefully, as if she had pulled too hard. She stepped inside quickly, and walked down the hall, away from the people and the noise, letting the door swing shut behind her.

She was down the corridor and rounding the corner when she heard heavy footfalls echoing in the narrow passage behind her. Tutor, to scold her on her lack of diplomacy, or Ahamo, to drag her back to the celebration. Or perhaps Hass, not about to let her give him the slip.

_I'm done, I am not going back in there,_ she thought to herself as she sped up. All she could think about was how easy it would be to sneak out the gate with so many people coming and going. All she could focus on was a little bit of stolen freedom.

A hand closed on her upper arm, a vice like grip. For what she swore would be the final time that night, she turned around, trying to yank her arm back. But instead of being faced with her teacher, or her father, she found herself glaring up at a very unimpressed-looking Wyatt Cain.

"Where are you goin'?" he asked, quite calmly. The light was too weak, she couldn't read his eyes. But his voice... she had nothing to fear. She never did.

All the fight went out of her. As she slumped against the wall, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, his firm hold on her arm loosened, and his warm, heavy hand slid up her shoulder to rest comfortably on the back of her neck.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, meeting his question with another, though there was no substantial threat behind her words.

"I got caught up at the Armory," he said. She frowned at him, refusing to fall into him but wondering how she could stay mad at him when he'd only been doing his job. He'd taken two days leave during early May, but the most she'd seen of him was when he'd stepped into her self-defense lesson with Glitch to give her a sparring partner; the match had left her muscles aching and her entire body sexually frustrated. In a very Ambrosey voice, Glitch had declared them both bar brawlers with no rhythm. Wyatt had stolen a quick kiss after a formal dinner event at which they'd been seated separately, and then he'd been gone again, headed North.

Tonight, following Jeb's little tease a month before, she'd searched the crowds for her Tin Man's familiar, handsome face. Hours of scanning the room, of only half paying attention to conversations, to best wishes from hundreds of strangers as she'd watched for him. But slowly, slowly it had begun to sink in, that once again, Fate or some military obligation had intervened and it just wasn't going to happen. Why she'd let herself dare to hope at all...

They stood in silence, too many thoughts jumbled between them for either to speak a real word. Footsteps coming towards them caused him to pull his hand away from her neck, but only a wine steward passed them, managing a bow as he passed them with a tray of stemmed glasses.

"I want to talk to you," he said in a low voice, leaning in towards her. His breath caressed the curve of her shoulder and neck, and she fought to keep her head from falling back.

"Hass is going to notice I'm gone," she said, chewing on her lip. She looked up at him, and then down his body. He'd come straight from the Armory, wearing a vest, a white shirt, and clean, tan pants. If he'd been wearing a jacket, someone at the entrance would have nabbed it. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, he looked comfortable, and she suddenly felt overdressed, watching the glass beads sewn onto her dress shimmer in the weak light.

"I sent Hass home when I got here," Cain told her. "Been watchin' you for about fifteen minutes when you hightailed it out of the ballroom."

She caught his eyes. "Did you see why I hightailed it?"

He smirked. "Gentleman is bein' escorted out as we speak."

She smiled, and relented. She stepped towards him, almost falling against his chest in her sudden desire to be close to him. He smelled so familiar, so good. The sound of his heart beating under her ear was like music; good God, she wasn't normally sappy, but she'd missed him too, too much. But it wasn't completely right. Though his arms had settled around her waist, his embrace was stiff.

"Darlin', this isn't really the place," he said slowly. "I'd like it if we could talk in private."

Her eyebrows perked, and she repressed a manic grin. Her heart absolutely leaped in a very strange, almost painful away. "Um," she said, swallowing down a sudden lump in her throat, "I don't know about private, but I can probably do secluded. Does that sound okay?"

Smiling, he kissed her forehead. "Sounds fine."

Ten minutes later, she was tucking them into the same alcove Raw had led her to months before – had he really been gone that long? – and drawing the draperies at the archway closed; the same matching carved benches, the same potted tree boasting its little glass ornaments. Small circular lights were set into the dirt underneath the tree, spotlighting it, casting the rest of the tiny room in a pale, ghostly light.

"There," she said, as she turned around to face him. "Now we've got until Mother realizes I'm gone and releases the hounds."

Cain looked at her, amused, for a moment. She watched him in return, expectantly waiting for him to speak. When she didn't move, he sighed. "Will you come over here so I can say 'hello' properly?"

With a laugh, she crossed the four paces between them, and threw herself upon him. Propriety be damned; if her dress had allowed it, she would have jumped on him. She just wanted to have him hold her. He didn't disappoint; he pulled her possessively tight, one arm encircling her waist, the other pressed up her spine, his big hand returned to its home at the base of her neck. Letting go of his restraint for the first time since he'd last left her, he clung to her as she clung to him.

In his arms, she shook, and it shamed her. Unsure of why, whether relief, or the encounter in the ballroom, or just her body trying to relax.

He pulled away, studied her face, looking for the changes that always seemed to sneak up on him. She looked the same, the curve of her cheek and the line of her temple and her lips. Her lips; he hadn't kissed her since catching her, but he couldn't, not yet.

DG had also noticed this fact. She leaned her head back every so slightly, smiling at him and focusing her big blues on him, doing what she knew tempted him, what played games with his resolve. "So, why did you want to see me in private?" she asked, so innocently, and yet so suggestively. She let her voice lower to that dangerous, sultry octave, that note a touch higher than a whispered purr.

"DG," he said slowly, but then his gaze fell immediately away, and she could see something was bothering him, that in the heat of battle he was rethinking his plan of attack. She waited patiently; she'd learned that jumping on him, saying too much would cause him to stiffen, retreat. She'd be back to square one, a detached, brooding Tin Man, all coldness and discomfort. She pushed her lip out, the slightest hint of a pout, but it got his attention, got him speaking again. "Darlin'," he said, his words measured, as he eyed her bottom lip, "I've been havin' a lot of rough nights on the road. I've been missin' you too much."

She brightened. That wasn't so bad. "I miss you, too," she told him quickly, "but I don't see why –" She stopped talking when his mouth set in a firm line, and his eyes bore hard down upon her. Her teeth found her lip, sunk in, stifling the words, the questions, the whimper that threatened at his sudden seriousness.

"I don't know how I'm gonna come back to the city, and keep on with this sneakin' around," he told her. "I'm gonna need to have you in my bed every night," he said, his voice lowering to a rumble that shook through her. Her breath seemed caught, the intensity radiating off him somehow negating her need to breathe.

_What are you saying,_ she thought, knowing what he needed now was her silence; he sighed, shook his head, closed his eyes, and she wondered if she'd accidentally sent the thought out to him. His hand fell from her neck, and he was pulling back. Her heart was beginning to pound too loud; she wondered if he could hear that, too.

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a ring.

_Oh, sweet Jesus._

Wyatt held the tiny piece of jewelry between them, between two fingers, as if just showing her. Her eyes fixed onto it, mesmerized, but then he cleared his throat, and he caught her eyes, and for the life of her, she couldn't pull herself away from that deep blue stare.

"Wear this," he said softly, his voice as close to pleading as she'd ever heard it. "Marry me."

She offered him her hand, as she had so many times that night to so many people, but this time was different, this time the world outside their secluded hideaway had stopped moving for a bare second so that his fingers could take hers, slide the little silver ring onto her finger, its single clear sapphire set in a mount shaped like a crown, flanked by two small diamonds. It caught the dim light, dazzled her as she looked at it, sitting on her finger, so at home.

"I heard its tradition to give a Gale daughter an emerald," he said, with a hint of a laugh in his voice, "but I figured you wouldn't want to be lookin' at another emerald."

Her lips curled into a smirk, as the silver in the ring winked at her. "So you thought I was going to say 'yes'?"

Cain shrugged, his voice non-committal. "Hoped."

"Well," she said slowly, as she slid her hands up his chest, winding her arms around his neck. He looked down at her as she pushed up on tiptoes. "I do say 'yes'. I'll marry you."

If he grinned, it was only a flash, as he leaned in to claim her mouth, finally, sweetly. His tongue begged entrance past her lips, to meet with her tongue; a long kiss that made her moan, as both his hands went into her hair, tangling in it as he held her head in place, tipping it occasionally to find a better angle. It was a kiss that lasted forever, or almost; she'd never better understood the expression 'tall drink of water', as she'd never felt so thirsty for someone.

When he broke the kiss, it was to lower his head and place the warm caresses of his lips onto her neck, curving downwards to her shoulder. Her head fell to the side and she caught sight of the potted tree, its branches laden heavy with glass ornaments, all catching the spotlights, glistening like diamonds. Wyatt's teeth nipped her neck, and in that instant, every glass ornament on the tree changed, however inexplicably, momentarily casting a green light that came from nowhere. Bright flashes of green distracted her, but were gone in the next instant, as his lips soothed the offended skin.

She shook her head, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, the green was gone, everything was normal... no, not so, Cain was pulling away from her, thinking she was shaking her head at _him_.

"Everything okay?"

She turned on a weak smile, casting one last short glance at the tree before looking up at him again. "Yeah, everything is fine."

* * *

***

* * *

Though she didn't say anything outright, everyone eventually noticed the ring. Hass's falcon eye caught the shimmer the moment he'd seen her again, the morning after the ball. Jeb, of course, had known, had probably known since the day he'd come to see her in the garden and had taunted her about her birthday. Azkadellia was next, and gave her sister a rare laugh as they'd embraced. Glitch had done a double take, had squealed in a very undignified matter, and nearly cracked her ribs grabbing her for a hug. Eventually, she'd broken down and shown her parents, as her mother's eyes always seemed to skim hazily over her, not really seeing; her father said nothing at all, and she couldn't pretend it didn't hurt.

More days ticked away busily. Spring melted slowly into summer, the only true change of season shown in the trees of the rooftop arboretum, as the blossoms fell and green leaves sprouted. Claustrophobia was beginning to set into DG, she could feel it settling in her bones, faintly at first but becoming more and more invasive as her birthday passed and she began to miss the world outside the city walls. She'd grown up on a prairie, after all, with so much open space that there had always been room to stretch, run, breathe.

The city was suffocating her, and she seemed to be the only one bothered or affected at all... until one night she came across Jeb standing on the rooftop viewing deck, watching the lake and the mountains beyond. It was then she realized she wasn't the only one who missed the freedom beyond Alta Torretta.

She tried to distract herself. With lessons and the occasional appearance on Azkadellia's behalf, with her sketchpad when she found a free moment, and with her newfound habit of twisting the silver and sapphire band, staring wistfully into space, remembering the feel of his arms around her... interrupted shortly after the burst of green light, she'd ached for him alone in her bed that night. A month after her birthday now, June nearly halfway through, and she hadn't heard from him since.

So she studied. Threw herself into her lessons. Prepared herself for what was to come, and waited for a sign.

* * *

***

* * *

DG was staring at herself hard in the mirror, so engrossed in her reflection that she didn't notice the conspicuous absence of the green light in the glass.

"I don't look any different," she said, sounding disappointed. She turned her head from side to side, scrutinizing the angles of her face. Behind her, she could hear Tutor chuckling with amusement.

"Trust me, DG. You look a great deal different; your hair is red, your skin paler. Your eyes are brown," he said, shaking his head. "You've grasped this magic phenomenally fast. You should be pleased."

"I look like me," she said firmly. Her eyes were definitely blue.

Tutor continued to wag his head back and forth, a little sad at her reaction. "The mirror is reflecting the truth to you because you are the one that cast the spell. I see a red head in the mirror. You might find this hard to believe, DG, but you look like a completely different person. Back me up on this, Corporal," Tutor said, exasperated as she continued to look at him skeptically.

"You look like a completely different person," Jeremy Hass repeated obediently, without looking up from his chair by the window, where he sat skimming through one of her history books.

"He's not even looking," DG pointed out.

Hass looked up from the book then, studying her as hard as she'd studied herself. "Your nose is kind of big," he said appraisingly, before going back to his reading.

Tutor chuckled at DG's offended look. "With a glamour firmly in place, you'll be able to go wherever you want, and be just another face in the crowd. A huge advantage, Princess! You won't stand out at all... unless the illusion you create is made to stand out If I might say so," he said, a touch critically, "your hair is a rather distracting shade. Mr. Cain is right to wear a hat."

She frowned. Even pleased with her, he had to find something wrong with what she'd done. She knew the old teacher had to be hard on her, but his barbs stung anyway.

"How will I know if it worked, if I can't see it myself to make sure?" she asked him, thinking it a very logical question, but he only smiled at her indulgently.

"You felt it, didn't you? Felt that tingle? If you're _concentrating_ properly, you'll know that everything is as you want it," he told her patiently, ever the tutor. "Just the same as the spinning doll. Show me how the doll spins. Show me a face to hide behind." She showed him her brightest princess smile. He sighed. "Very funny, DG."

"Now," he continued, "this magic isn't meant to hold up for long. For example, all day, and all night. If you attempt to leave it in place too long, it might start to hurt, or perhaps give you a headache."

"Oh, yay," she said half-heartedly, and listened to Tutor as he explained the spell couldn't be held while she slept. To be wary of where she let her guard down to rest. The words hidden between the ones spoken, that these were things to prepare her for her journey, to protect herself, to help protect those that went with her.

Growing suddenly sad, losing the focus she needed to keep the new magic in place, she felt the illusion drop. Tutor frowned at her. The rule, she kept the spell up for as long as possible. She might have mastered it quickly, but she'd failed in the long run.

"I think that's enough for today," Tutor said, and there was no satisfaction in his voice to make her feel she'd done well. She felt adequate, the same as the day before. As she bid her teacher goodbye, and watched him leave her alone in her sitting room with her shadow, she wondered if she'd ever do it completely right. The door closed, the sound having a certain touch of finality that made her shiver.

DG looked at herself in the mirror, shutting herself off from the sitting room, the palace, the entirety of the O.Z; she turned her attention back to her lesson, determined to practice, determined to do better. She studied her reflection; she looked no different than five minutes ago, when she'd been no different than five minutes before that. She was frowning at herself, unhappy, when her reflection _shifted_, sliding out of focus; when the image sharpened with amazing clarity, she took a step back, startled. The face in the mirror had changed.

The young woman in the mirror looked at her thoughtfully, her face sad. She was so pretty, so much like DG that it was hard to establish the differences, but they were_ there_; this girl was, very plainly, someone else. Younger. While she'd stepped back, the girl stayed put, head and shoulders in the mirror; amazed, DG realized that her list of Strange Occurrences had just been topped. Again.

Hass called out from across the room. "What's wrong?" He'd noticed. Of course he'd noticed. He'd been taught by the very best.

The girl winked, mouthed words that she thought may have been _'Follow your heart,'_ and shifted again. A subtle change, less dramatic a second time, but DG was still left staring at herself, now completely herself, and very confused.

In all honesty, what could she say? She put a hand over her eyes and took a deep breath; experience told her that sometimes it took a minute to process these kind of mental information. Finally, after a long moment, and more than a few deep breaths, she said "I'm seeing things."

"What kind of things?" Hass asked carefully.

"I don't know," she said, unsure of where to begin, with lights or faces or to just shut up all together. "And I'm not sure who would."

* * *

***

* * *

The pub into which the old man entered was dark and rundown. The only windows faced the alley, so dirty and covered in grime that no light was able to permeate the glass. At the very early hour, when only the weakest rays of gray illumination were beginning to cut through the night, this close to the Wall, the district was mostly quiet. The bar was empty, save for a few drunken patrons who'd passed out at their respective tables. The odd bump or laugh could be heard from upstairs.

He spotted the one he'd come to see, situated at a small table in the darkest corner. Walking slowly across the bar, a creep to his step that was more habit than anything, he sat down across from the stranger.

"Good to see you, Jowan," the stranger at the table said.

"You're the new scout, then, eh?" Jowan said with a gravelly chuckle.

"I thought a change of occupation was in order, and the pay is beyond compare. Well, not really. I've had better. But I'm not complaining."

_Of course you're not, _Jowan thought as he looked the new scout up and down. "Well," Jowan said, sweeping his gaze carefully around the dark tavern now, "I've seen your face around, I can surely say that." Not a single soul paid them any mind, and the barkeep had been walking up the creaky set of stairs when he'd entered the bar, and had yet to return. They were completely alone; to anyone asking later, they weren't there at all.

It was the soldier's turn to laugh. "That, I'm almost certain, is truth."

Jowan shook his head slowly. "You're a brave soul."

"I toe a dangerous line. Sneaking into the city is easy enough, its getting back out thats the fun part."

The foolhardiness of youth, Jowan knew it too well. Though he'd lived a perilous existence in his younger years, he had a sneaking suspicion that nothing he'd ever done or encountered would come close to the soldier across from him. It didn't worry him as much as it intrigued him, but he'd never been the friendly type, and the stranger didn't look like he was about to start talking.

Jowan was the one supplying the information.

"He wants to know what news." The soldier was straightforward in his desire; the longer the lingered, the greater the chance of being spotted, and neither were in a position to want to be seen with the other.

The old man leaned back in his chair and considered his comrade. What news... what news out of everything he'd learned would be of use to their mutual master?

"The people of the city are slowly accepting the Sorceress," Jowan said slowly. "Her new policies on leniency and rehabilitation for criminals of the Possession are surprisingly popular. There's a good chance no fool with a gun will try to assassinate her upon her coronation."

The soldier smirked. "She falls from power only to be risen again, legitimately."

"She is not popular, but she is not hated, and everyone knows its huge progress," Jowan said, leaning forward now to put his elbows down on the table. "Under the guidance of her mother and the headcase advisor, there is no doubt Azkadellia will be another strong Gale queen."

Quiet and thoughtful, the soldier nodded to the old man to continue, without so much as a word.

"The Queen and Consort parade the Sorceress front and center," Jowan said. "At all times, she is involved in all aspects of the kingdom. Under heavy guard, she visits outlaying communities. Visits the sick, the destitute. With every good deed of the royal family, they heal the country."

"Has there been any talk of the Emerald?" the soldier wanted to know.

"No," Jowan said. "None. Not that has reached my ears, at any rate. And as you know, I am but an old gardener." The man's voice weakened, and both companions chuckled in the shadows. A loud thud from a room upstairs brought their attention to the activity that still went on around – or above – them, even with the night almost breaking into dawn.

"And the younger Gale?"

"Ah," said Jowan with a smile of fondness. "Young Princess DG. The girl is a delight."

"Stick to what's important, Old Man," the soldier hissed low, the hint of threat in his voice all too evident.

Jowan cleared his throat, surprised at his indiscretion. "Compared to her sister, no one outside the palace sees the younger princess much at all. They keep her busy in the palace with her lessons, trying to prepare her for this life." He leaned a little closer, across the table, to his co-conspirator. "She does very poorly, but it is not without effort. She seems to cause scandal wherever she goes, no matter how hard she tries to walk the line of her sister. Though her parents have made no formal announcement, she wears an engagement ring on her finger."

The soldier's eyebrows perked in interest. "A foreign prince?"

Jowan snorted with laughter. "If one is to listen to court gossip, which one in my position is wont to do, its the Tin Man who was her companion during the Eclipse."

"Of course it is." The words were cold, clipped.

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy, sir?"

The soldier's glare turned steely, dangerous. "Remember your place, Old Man. I've had my share of a Gale daughter, and they are very overrated. Just another beautiful woman, and women are nothing but misery to any man."

"I'm sure that keeps you comforted in your bed at night," Jowan said derisively.

"Where do you get your information?" the soldier asked.

Jowan shrugged. "The same way anyone looking for this type of delicate information would. I watch. I listen. I encourage the gossip and wheedle through it. Not everything the chamber-maids say is idle."

The soldier nodded his head once, a slight jerk of his chin. "That will do." He stood, pushing away from the table as he did so. "I'll expect another report soon. I'll be in contact."

Jowan nodded, saying nothing. Of course, he'd be in contact. Though the new scout had been a surprise, he had to admit as he watched the man walk out of the tavern and into the city night, that the timing of the contact had not been. The Commander was strictly meticulous, as required of his position and a natural trait in his people.

He sighed as he stood, stretching out his old bones before beginning the long, quiet walk back to the palace, and his warm, comfortable bed. The new soldier had been unafraid to ask about the Emerald. The scout before hadn't even had the courage to form the word on his lips: _Emerald_. The source of the Commander's fury. Those that served him during this period of waiting, the old man did not envy one bit.

The last scout had let it slip that the youngest Gale had promised the militant outlander the Emerald, the most important treasure of her line. How she planned on doing that, Jowan had wondered absently more than once, was beyond him. It was this fact he mused as he left the pub and took to the shadows, and before a minute had passed, the alley was quiet, empty, and still.

* * *

_Author's Note: Wow, these chapters are getting ridiculously long. You're not complaining! Leave me a review to tell me how much you aren't complaining. *wink*_


	5. Chapter Five: Summer

_Author's Note: All right, I've brought us up to summer, and summer is _**hot**_. *cough* Special thanks to _**BookWorm37**_, who helped me out with the idea for Scene Two. Thank you, I hope it brings you giggles and glee, hon! And its all dedicated to my buddy Erin, who is sneezing at this very moment. *hugs*  
_

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* * *

  
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**Chapter Five**

_Midsummer _

It was stifling hot in the conference room, and everyone inside of it was feeling the effects of the muggy city afternoon. Jeb resisted digging a finger into his collar to give himself more room to breathe; but, like an unsatisfied itch, his discomfort festered, annoyed him. He'd already undone the collar, was already breaking the strict regulations for the men of his position; Gods, he hated the palace guard uniforms.

Azkadellia, though seemingly engrossed in peace talks with an Ambassador of Ev, had been eying him since he'd undone his collar. Every so often, her eyes would flick to him, a natural gesture to the man who sat across from her, but to the guard who watched her, it was more, too much more. She was careful, demure in her actions, her body language. She played the proper role of heir presumptive, future queen; she caused no suspicion to arise.

But with her mind, her magic, she was playful.

The Ambassador was laying down demands. Though Az, flanked on either side by advisors, watched him attentively, her face impassive; from across the room, her voice rang out clear and flirtatious in Jeb's head.

_I can't take this heat,_ she whispered to him, not even looking at him now, almost avoiding his eyes, knowing full well he'd never try to catch hers.

_Aren't you hot? I know I am._

Moving casually, she swept her long hair over one shoulder, exposing the side of her neck, showing him that tender, special place on her jaw, where she loved to feel his lips. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to shake off images that were rising to the surface of his brain. He was on the job, he needed to focus; though he knew he was a poor example of proper work ethic, even he had enough common sense not to give into her tricks... while the Ambassador, his personal guard, and the royal advisors were in the room, anyway.

_Ohhh,_ she moaned low as she shifted. _So warm. This gown is so heavy. I can't wait to get up to my room to take it off._

He found himself gritting his teeth. He focused on the drone of the Ambassador's voice. The man's list of desires, though not his own but that of his king, seemed to go on and on. Jeb would have tossed the bastard on his ass quite a while ago, but then again, during his time with the Resistance, he hadn't come to be known for his diplomacy.

"I think you're trying to blind me with menial demands, Ambassador Echevarria, to sneak a few larger ones under the table," Azkadellia said with the slightest hint of amusement in her voice. It was easily quelled as she reached forward to the table and began to sort through papers. "I have the last peace treaty between our two countries here, Ambrose had it drawn up for me."

As she searched intently, scanning one paper and then the next carefully, her voice came to him again.

_Jeb,_she whispered sensuously. He felt a jolt of lust shoot through him, unexpectedly, as she used his name; she so very rarely had reason to. _I want out of here. I want..._ her voice trailed off, but a quiet, strained moan echoed off the inside of his skull. When he looked at her, her teeth were digging into her full bottom lip, in concentration or desire, it was up to him to decide.

His eyes slammed closed, and he clenched his jaw tighter, heard his teeth grind against one another. Told himself firmly to ignore her.

_Just imagine,_ her words called out to him, _how warm and slick my skin is. I wish your hands were cold, like ice. I'd let you run them all over me. _

He cleared his throat, shifting. For the first time in a long time, or perhaps ever, Jeb Cain found himself wishing he had some sort of magic, so that he might be able to return in kind. Torture her as she tortured him now. He might tell her that his hands were hot, that he was hot for her, that if she didn't stop this instant, he'd take her on the conference table in front of the foreign dignitary and her mother's advisors.

Hours later, as the Ambassador and his guard left the meeting, smug and sated, and the royal advisors had gone the same way, talking to each other in low voices, Jeb pushed himself away from the wall and walked slowly to the door. He was absolutely numb with his restraint, ready to let go, but not about to give her the satisfaction. A stubborn jackass, through and through.

"I have to change for the state dinner tonight," she said casually, as she organized the papers on the table into a neat pile. He closed the door, and began to cross the room, to the long table where she stood. If she noticed him stalking slowly towards her, she didn't say anything about it, nor did she give him the slightest acknowledgement.

"You think you're funny, don't you?" Jeb asked, keeping his face stone straight.

Az swallowed a smile before looking up at him. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Lieutenant."

"No," he growled suddenly, petulantly. "You don't get to do that."

Her eyebrows raised in surprise at his tone. One moment, the mood had been playful, though she was sure she'd been having more fun than he, but that could be remedied now that they were alone. But, no... "What?" What didn't she get to do?

"Lieutenant," he repeated. He was shaking his head when he stepped directly in front of her. He placed both hands on her neck, holding her head straight so she had no choice but to look at him. "None of that. Say it."

Her lip trembled at his seriousness. The spark in his eye, that darkness that loomed, that pain buried. She'd done something very wrong, and she almost cowered, thinking she'd hurt him. She didn't want to, never wanted to... "Say what?" she asked, unsure.

"Say my name, Your Highness." His use of her title was pointed, a knife pressed into the skin of the moment, ready to puncture, to inflict pain.

She blinked, swallowed hard. "Jeb, you're scaring me," she said quietly, her voice so soft that it was barely heard over their labored breathing.

Subdued, he slumped against her, burying his face in her neck, in her hair; finding that tender, special spot on her jaw, he pressed his lips there as he wrapped his arms around her, held her tightly.

Didn't let go.

* * *

***

* * *

The streets of Central City's Bellicose District were deadly quiet. A breeze lifted trash from the gutters, blowing it along an aimless route. Raucous calls, displaced from streets over where nightlife still thrived, echoed off the high brick walls of the mostly empty buildings. Slowly, the Reconstruction was breathing new life into the once seedy city, home to almost half of the population of the Outer Zone, but here on the fringes of the city, near the Wall, it was still a dangerous place to tread.

Sudden, soundless movement broke the stillness. Along the shadows, met by no one, a cloaked figure crept. Every move was slow and calculated; footsteps hitting the wet pavement made no sound, the swish of the cloak around the moving legs of its wearer was unheard by anyone. Barely there, perhaps not there at all, the hooded figure walked with singular purpose.

In the earliest hours of the morning, when only the wildest districts still showed signs of life, the darkened doorways and empty, black windows bore the only witness of the stranger. Completely out of place, the figure never slowed, never stopped. A predestined path, followed as though practiced. Cutting across a deserted street, the cloak caught in the breeze, lifting to show pale, slender legs before dropping again; skirting the edge of the glow cast by a street lamp, the stranger ducked into an alley. Looking around, seeing no one and hearing nothing, a hand closed on a steel handle, pulling open a door set in the wall. The city slept, unaware of the figure that disappeared into nameless building, closing the door so softly behind, it made no noise at all.

Moving stealthily up the stairs, lights dimmed as the cloaked stranger passed, only to brighten again after the unknown had walked on. Up one floor, and then another, and another, the hallway at the top of the stairs darkened completely as the figure pulled the cloak tighter, straightened the hood. Eventually stopping in front of a door, a hand was held up, and the locks in the door glowed bright, disengaging, one after another.

On the other side of the door, Wyatt Cain's eyes flew open. As the first lock clicked, he was out of bed and grabbing his gun off the nightstand, where it sat, loaded and ready. He was crossing out of his bedroom and into the kitchen as the second lock slid out of place; raising his gun and straightening his arm in the direction of the door when the third lock released. His heart was pounding as the door knob turned.

He cleared his throat loudly. "You've got 'till the count of two to back off before I empty this chamber in your skull," he said as he pulled back the hammer, using the ominous sound to show he meant business.

The figure entering his home cried out; with a small flash of white light, he felt the gun being yanked hard from his fingers, his brain registering it leaving his hand and flying across the room, to hit the wall and clatter uselessly to the floor. The surge of magic in the room caused the light-bulb above his head to turn on and flare bright before burning out. Backing up a step in surprise, Cain watched as the stranger before him yanked down its hood, and he was faced with his princess, her cheeks burning and her eyes blazing as the lights in the hallway turned back on.

"DG!" he exclaimed angrily, advancing on her quickly and seizing her by the arm. Great Gale, she'd just broken into his apartment and disarmed him! She looked shocked at her own actions, lost for words and taken aback by his sudden onset. She was looking up at him with guilty blue eyes, biting her lip as she waited for admonishment. "What the hell are you doin'?" He was almost, but not quite, at a loss for words at her brazenness.

"Well, I..." she said, and faltered. She let go of a huffing exhale, her jaw settling firmly as she glared up at him. Sudden defiance sparked. "I told you I wouldn't be held responsible for my actions if you took too long." She gave a firm little nod, as if to back herself up.

Gazing down at her, feeling a smile trembling at the corners of his mouth, he fought it down. "You sneak out of the palace in the middle of the night by yourself? You got _any_ common sense in that head of yours? And –" He stopped short for a moment, realizing a fact and becoming immediately suspicious. "And how did you know I was back in the city? I got in less than three hours ago!"

Unlike him, DG allowed herself a grin. "I've got contacts, too, Tin Man," she said, her voice daring him to be tempted to ask, but she didn't leave him time to. She had a determined gleam to her eyes, and somehow Cain knew she was out for nothing but trouble. "Now can you pretend for _five minutes_ to be happy to see me? Then I promise," she said, her voice dropping, "you can go back to chastising me like I'm a bad girl."

She cocked an eyebrow. Another dare; and Gods damn him forever, because, despite his prided restraint and control, it was pretty much over from there.

Dragging her against his chest by his tight grip still on her arm, he used his free hand to slam the door shut; in next to an instant, he had her pushed against it, molding his body against hers as six months of combined, pent up sexual frustration burst forth in a wave of aggression. His lips crushed down on hers, stealing the breath from her lungs as one arm slid smoothly around her waist, his knuckles scraping hard on the door. With the other hand, he fumbled with the locks, closing them in. No interruptions.

Her hands were between them as he kissed her, her fingers moving deftly over the fastenings of her cloak. She soon had it off, and she tore it from her shoulders, tossing it away. His hands were immediately on her shirt, pulling the fabric up and over her head, breaking away from her mouth for only long enough to rid her of the fabric; his mouth found hers again, his tongue seeking audience with hers, as she moaned underneath of him, heat radiating from her skin.

"Wyatt," she mumbled softly, imploringly, against his lips. Damn him, he felt so good, firm muscle and pure masculinity underneath her hands. She slid her hands up his chest over top of his shirt, taking handfuls of his collar, pulling him down. His arms about her naked back held her steady; his lips moved endlessly over hers, sucking, taking her in. His mouth made love with hers as his hands slipped lower, palming both cheeks of her bottom, pinching, squeezing. She lost the kiss as her head fell back, mind spinning.

Cain lowered his mouth to her neck, taking her skin in as he lifted her. Her skirt rode up as she wrapped her legs about his hips, tightening him between her legs to keep herself up; he held her securely, letting go her neck with an audible pop to look up at her. With light no longer spilling in from the hallway, he couldn't see her face, as she pressed her forehead to his, the dark masses of her hair falling around them as a curtain.

"Do you want it like this?" he whispered, his voice gravelly with want. Bracing her against the door, he yanked her hips down towards his, grinding her against his hardening erection. She moaned loud, barely sounding like herself.

Her voice was shaking when she finally found it. "No," she found herself saying quietly to him. "Not like this."

Holding tight to Cain's shoulders, DG pressed feather light kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, into his hair as he carried her awkwardly to the bedroom. When he sat her down on the edge of the bed, he knelt before her. She could see a little better in the bedroom, the light coming in the window enough to illuminate his skin, his pale hair. She watched intently as his hands slid down her legs, pulling off the silk ballet flats that had made no noise against the pavement. Running his hands back up all the way to her hips, his fingers searched until he found the zipper that held her remaining garment closed; pulling it down, he hooked his fingers inside the waistband of her skirt. "Lay back," he commanded, and she did so, her heart fluttering uncertainly. She lifted her hips as he slid the skirt and her underwear off, leaving her laying on his bed in nothing but her bra, as he sat back on his knees, fully clothed before her.

Coming up to her, an arm bracing his weight on either side of her, he leaned in close, his breath caressing her lips. Instead of kissing her, however, he only teased her lips with the barest touch against his own before moving downwards, pressing a hard kiss to her jaw, to her neck.

"After I'm done with you," he said in that low, growly tone, "after I'm done makin' you scream..." Here he paused, the graze of his teeth on her shoulder turning into the softest bite, and she cried out, her arms wrapping around his torso, trying to pull him down to her. He resisted, holding himself above her. "... You're goin' to tell me _exactly_ how you managed to lose your guard and get out of the palace."

DG nearly snorted with laughter; the Tin Man on top of her cut it short by biting down gently on her shoulder again. Clearing her throat, she remembered herself enough to mutter a quick "Yes, sir." Cain chuckled against her skin as he reversed, sliding his lips down her chest. When he met the obstruction of her bra, he skipped past it, pressing his next kiss to the bottom of her ribcage, near the dip of her waist. When she let out a soft exclamation of disappointment, he placated her by sliding one hand under the silky fabric of her bra, pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger before letting her go and continuing his southward journey.

Ohh... how much had she missed him. Was it measured in every arc her body made against his ministrations, was it counted by every quiet cry that escaped her lips as his lips pressed to the soft skin of her belly, his tongue sweeping a wet circle around her navel. It didn't occur to her what he was doing until he'd started, as he slid off the bed completely to kneel before her again, as he gently pried her thighs apart, hooking her legs over his shoulders.

A whimper caught in her throat as his fingers brushed lightly, reverently through her curls; he touched her folds, felt the wetness seeping from her, and with a strained groan, Cain slid two thick fingers directly into her body, encasing himself in her heat. "Gods," he mumbled, nipping at the inside of her thigh as he pulled his fingers free again. "So wet already, Princess." Her eyes slid closed as his hands gripped at her hips, and he lowered his head to the apex of her thighs. She cried out, arching as his tongue ran along her slit, burrowed in between to graze the sensitive bundle that had ached too long for this most intimate of his touches.

With a hand splayed firmly over her stomach, anchoring her to the bed, he began to work his mouth over her, first sucking soft on her clit, then lapping down slowly. His tongue found her entrance, circling it, teasing it until she began to shake; prompted further, he allowed himself to delve in for a better taste, pressing her down as she bucked up against him. When a familiar whimper caught in her throat, he knew she was close; beginning to tremble with his own restraint, he swept the flat of his tongue upwards in one smooth motion, flicking her bud with the tip, again and again until she came, her hands flying down to his head, trying to push him away as her thighs seized. With a deep chuckle, he placed open mouthed kisses on her thighs before pushing away from the bed.

DG propped herself up on her elbows, breathing hard as she watched him undress. Had he just done that to her? Her legs seemed to shake of their own volition as she scooted farther back, the jingle of his belt sending her heart into near arrest, followed by a soft _whoosh_ as his pants dropped. Then, oh so slowly, he was crawling over her as she spread her legs for him again, welcoming him home in proper fashion as he settled, the tip of his erection probing against her wet, hot skin. "DG," he said quietly, his name off her lips all the more taunting for the smirk in his voice.

She felt her lips curl into an indulgent smile. "You sound satisfied with yourself," she whispered, wrapping her legs around his waist as he pressed into her, burying his cock to the hilt with a groan that shook through him and into her. Her inner muscles still pulsed around him, his erection twitching on its own in kind. They lay perfectly still, as he kissed her softly for the first time since she had laid down on the bed. Passionate, unrestrained kisses; she was desperate to taste him, to taste herself, Gods she'd missed him, never felt anything so fulfilling, was never so complete as when he held her this way. How had she gone on for so long without him? And when... when could she have this for keeps?

With agonizing precision, Wyatt began to move his hips, driving all thought from her head. Extracting himself so slowly before pushing in again, causing her to buck and moan before much time had passed. Sweat began to glisten on his forehead as he thrust easily, in and out, and sweet Lords, he'd never felt anything so hot, so soft beneath him. "Deeg," came a strangled word from his mouth, as she writhed beneath him, first guiding her hips towards his, and in the next second pulling away. In desperation for release, for closeness, their rhythm was skewed, uneven, but still they drew each other higher and higher until suddenly she was there, crying out his name, and Gods she was tight, and he was pushing himself as deep as he could before letting go, flooding her, and then falling completely still.

"Love you," he muttered against her sweat-dampened forehead, as he pushed himself away from her, falling weakly to her side on the mattress.

She hummed a happy note as she settled into the crook of his arm, resting her chin upon his chest. "Love you, too," she said with a grin he could hear, but not see. And then she was pushing away, sitting up. "And I'm not telling you a damn thing. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that."

Cain laughed, opening his eyes to see her sitting on the edge of the bed. "Sounds like a challenge I might take you up on, Darlin', but first I need a few minutes."

DG giggled gleefully, knowing she'd won the round. As much as she wanted to bury herself into his embrace and fall asleep, she knew she couldn't sleep next to him that night. She'd have to return to the palace, there was no way to get around that. But first...

"Would it be all right if I took a shower?" she asked him, as she reached behind her to unclasp her bra. She looked on the floor for the rest of her clothes that lay on the floor in a pile with his, even their garments desperate for the feel of the other. She searched for her shirt before realizing it had been left at the front door.

"You don't want to stay in bed?" he asked her, as he propped up on one elbow to watch her. She smiled at him, and crawled up the bed to place a much desired kiss on his lips.

"We both know I can't," she whispered regretfully. She wanted to, so badly. Wanted to wake up next to him, to feel his arms about her as her eyes fluttered open to the light. "But you're welcome to join me in the shower if you'd like."

Cain shook his head. "No, you go," he said, and kissed her before flopping back to the mattress and pillows. "I'll be waitin' when you get out."

DG hopped off the bed. "No way, Tin Man. You'll get me all sticky and sweaty again!" She was laughing, and God damn it felt good to laugh. She scooted to the bathroom, wondering if he might follow her. She left the light off and the door open. She loved Cain's bathroom, for it had one luxury that her own home didn't. For all its grandeur and opulence, not one of Alta Torretta's deep, smooth claw-footed tubs boasted a shower. Not one. She'd checked.

So, happy now for the first time in months, she showered, conjuring pins to gather her hair on top of her head. She didn't take long, wanting to get back to the Tin Man that waited for her in the bed; for all her teasing in the bedroom, she doubted she'd leave without making love with him again, and then she'd go home with his smell lingering under her clothes.

After washing the mess away from her thighs, she turned off the water and stepped out onto the mat. She reached for a towel, and after wrapping it firmly about her breasts, she waved of her hand, turned on the light.

She stepped in front of the mirror, and wiped away the steam with her hand; a quick green streak followed the contact on the glass before disappearing, like static electricity in the dark. Looking up into her reflection, the strange face staring back at her caused her to scream. _Really_ scream! Somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered that Cain had called her name worriedly, that he was coming now, but it didn't matter, she didn't care. Her mouth fell open, but wasn't reflected on the face in the mirror, that same, hauntingly similar face.

"_When the blood of one is the death of another, the time to begin will have come,"_ said the girl in the mirror, the same disjointed, faraway voice; the dark eyes watching her sparked dangerously with the ominous words. Blood, death... a beginning? No... the girl began to shift, began to fade.

"No!" DG cried out. "Wait!" She climbed up onto the sink to get closer to the mirror.

Cain came around the corner, pants on but undone, gun in hand, to see DG kneeling on the sink, trying to pry the mirror off the wall. His eyes scanned the bathroom, but he saw nothing amiss... but for the crazed girl who slapped the glass before slumping back so suddenly she nearly fell off the sink.

"What are you doin'?" he demanded harshly as he stepped fully into the bathroom. He helped her down, gave her a shake, as her eyes slid onto him, focusing slowly. She looked confused.

"I..." she started, but trailed off. He looked down at her hard, his lips pressed together grimly, as he fought an urge to turn a barrage of questions on her. He gave her another shake, this one gentler. His blue eyes caught hers, and he watched something unknown inside her crumble.

Those blue eyes trembled. "I have to tell you something..." she whispered meekly.

* * *

***

* * *

Wyatt Cain shuffled about his office at the Armory, trying to get as much done as possible, as fast as possible. Of course, he was accomplishing nothing, and he was now feeling the beginnings of what would surely be a _bad_ headache. He pressed on, however, knowing full well the problem was that he was distracted.

DG. The mirrors. A light, a stranger. And... what, exactly? A prophecy; a vision?

Death... someone was going to die. When... soon? He didn't know, and it drove him, frustrated him.

She was adamant, almost maddeningly so, that she wasn't imagining things. He'd made the mistake of asking.

But words came back to him, the advice of a fragile Azkadellia as she handed over the only things truly important to her to his hands, his protection; her younger sister and an emerald.

"_... She's going to sound crazy out there. Your instinct might even tell you she's going the wrong way. She won't be, and you need to trust in that..."_

So after asking her once, he'd simply shut his mouth and listened to her.

But that had been the night before. It was time, now, to focus on the task at hand. There was a transport requisition, somewhere. He had a handful of Longcoats being kept in an underground bunker deep in the southeast, and they needed transferring to the Tower prison. A reading needed to be arranged of the prisoners, someone had to send a message to the Viewers to request one. The extra men left behind to guard the prisoners needed reassignment. A conference with the generals was going to take up most of the afternoon. Somewhere in all of this, he was going to need to see his son... and, Gods willing, his princess, before he rode out the following morning.

Azkadellia's coronation was in seven weeks; he had six and a half left on the road. Nothing had led him to Zero, not a single person in all of the Zone had been heard with the name _John Zerrose _on their lips. The Longcoat was gone, as if he'd disappeared off the face of the O.Z.

Cain wasn't willing to cross the border, pass over the desert to search for Zero. He wouldn't leave the Zone, not even in chase. He'd travel the Brick Road in search until his duties at DG's side came into effect. When... only she could say. When the blood of one...

There was a hard rap on the open door, bringing Cain sharply out of his thoughts. He raised his head to see the Prince Consort standing in his door frame, already one foot inside. He was _too_ distracted. Worse, he didn't have time for this. He didn't even know what Ahamo wanted, and knew that he didn't have time for it.

"Welcome, Sir," Cain said, still shifting through papers. He gave a quick, stiff nod of his head. He wasn't trying to be rude, the man would certainly know what it was like to have too much work and no time to do it, and, from what he'd heard, the consort stood by ceremony as much as DG did.

"How are you, Captain?" Ahamo asked. He stepped in further, and closed the door behind him, to ensure privacy.

_Great_, Cain thought. He sighed, finally finding one of the forms he needed. If only several others would magically appear in front of him. A stack of folders sat to the right, waiting for him. "I'm busy," Cain said honestly. "How are you, sir." Not so much of a question as an invitation to get right the hell down to it.

"I've just come from a meeting with my wife and daughter," Ahamo said slowly, moving to stand in front of Cain's desk. His hands were idly shoved in his pockets, his stance casual. The set of his shoulders was completely betrayed by the tone of his voice as he spoke. "Over the past few months, Captain, these 'meetings' with DG have become more and more upsetting."

Cain realized the pause meant he was required to say something. His blue eyes flicked up momentarily to catch the consort's, before returning to the task in his hands. "I can imagine," he said, prompting the man across from him. "She's been seein' some pretty strange things."

"So you believe her?"

"It'd probably be foolish not to, considerin'," Cain said carefully. To his relief, the consort only nodded in agreement.

"She's headstrong," the consort said fondly. "Magnet for trouble. Always has been." He stopped to chuckle, however inappropriately was not for Cain to say. "And you still plan on taking a position at her side, despite the fact that she wears your ring on her finger?" Cain said nothing, and after an uncomfortable pause, Ahamo continued. "Her Majesty worries about love's distraction."

_Not only Her Majesty,_ Cain thought bitterly as he looked up from his paperwork to survey the man before him. The hands were out of the pockets now, and the arms were crossed smugly across the chest; trying, and failing, to be intimidating. "I plan to watch her all the more closely for it," Cain said shortly. His words were clipped, hard, and demanded recognition. "Your daughter is gonna be as safe as she can be."

"You cannot guarantee that, Captain."

Cain smirked. "Of course I can't," he said. "Couldn't even if she had a full military escort."

Their eyes met then, remembering too well the journey from Finaqua to the Gale. It hit Cain, as he stared, unyielding, at the consort. Though he refused to back down, he understood, suddenly quite clearly, the consort's worry about his daughter. Even now, the Witch dead, the country restored, DG's task had yet to be completed. The forecast on the horizon was dark, too dark to even see what was coming. The consort, though battle hardened by his time in the Realm of the Unwanted, was not a fighter, and he was becoming weary of the war for peace.

"I want her kept as safe as possible. I want Corporal Hass to accompany you on this... whatever you want to call it, mission. Test. It doesn't matter." The consort's words were firm, as close to a direct decree as Cain ever wanted to come again. His jaw tightened. "As _safe_ as possible, do you understand me?"

Wyatt nodded his head; he felt sorry for the consort, in a way, but he didn't soften, didn't quite know how to. He could sense Ahamo's struggle to be a real parent to a child he hadn't really had the chance to know before adulthood had swept the innocence away... something Cain felt, all too palpably.

Uncomfortable, realizing that Cain would say no more after being given his order, the consort cleared his throat, uncrossed his arms. Put his hands back in his pockets. "I wish you luck, Captain," he said, nodding vaguely to the mess of papers on the desk. The words reached much deeper, causing Cain's shoulders to relax slightly. With another nod, this one with a sense of finality, the consort walked from the room, and left Cain standing amidst a mess of paper and thought.

* * *

_Author's Note II: _**(and this is important!)** _-- I am blessed with some very smart readers, and some are going to figure out what the words from the girl in the mirror mean. Now, please don't give it away in review. Chapter Four's secret was meant to be easily discovered - this one is _**TRULY**_ meant to be a surprise, so please, don't give it away if you figure it out. You can gloat vocally when it comes to pass! _

_Now that doesn't mean that I wouldn't like a review. My muse really needs it; the next chapter is the coronation, and it is going to be very hard for me to get through. Eep! Reviews are love!  
_


	6. Chapter Six

_(Author's Note: I forgot to mention that the "main" storyline truly started in the last chapter. I guess you could think of the first four chapters as a very, very long prologue to this story. Happy reading!)_

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Without much in the way of ceremony, Wyatt Cain put to rest what was left of the last nine months of his life, and with it, any attachment to the future of the mission he'd been unable to finish. Zero had managed to evade capture, would face no punishment for his crimes.

It was doubtful the man would ever be caught.

The hope of finding Zero had waned fast, as the months had passed, as leads had gone nowhere. Every Longcoat that had gone into the custody of the A.R. had been interrogated over the whereabouts of the Witch's fledgling general. Not one knew where he was, where he'd gone. A few were equally as curious as to why that one, specific Longcoat was so important, and more than a few had muttered under their breath about wanting to get their hands on the traitor who'd given up all his mistress's plans to save his own hide.

Wyatt was angry, and had been working through it for days. Days spent on the long road home, days spent in the Armory offices from the rising of the first sun to well after night had fallen. Days spent quelling his own temper to reassure DG that he'd still be at her side when the time came for her to leave.

Slamming around the bathroom now, trying to put things in order before leaving for the palace, where a new room waited for him, he looked up out of habit for his reflection, only to remember the mirror had been moved off the wall. He'd taken it down when DG had asked him to.

_Bare knees straddling the porcelain, fingers sliding around the edge of the mirror... she was going to cut herself, she was going to bleed... blue eyes searching the glass frantically, looking for something, someone..._

He looked out of the bathroom to the mirror propped on the floor in the hallway. The glass still bore the print of her hand, as she'd slammed her palm down in defeat, before she'd almost fallen and he'd rushed in to grab her. She always fell back blindly. Either someone was there to catch her, or wasn't... damned if the stubborn girl would ever look back before she tumbled.

Shoving his thoughts down hard, he tried to concentrate on what he was doing. Zero didn't matter anymore, _couldn't_ matter with the anniversary of the Eclipse drawing up so fast. Three days. Four days until Azkadellia's coronation. Formal, low key... for not the first time, he found himself thanking his patron he wasn't in charge of that security nightmare.

If he'd even be in Central City for the coronation was up to DG. She said she didn't know. He'd been back two days, and he'd yet to see her; he'd managed to get her on the phone once, from his office on his first day back. She had sounded distracted, quiet. She'd willingly agreed to stay in the palace; that much told him something wasn't completely right. So, now back on the right track, he hurried. He closed the apartment up, locked the door. He'd keep the flat, simply because he wasn't sure of what the next few months would bring. They might need a place...

He kept his thoughts in check as he navigated the busy streets to the palace. It was after eight, and though the late summer skies were only beginning to darken, the overshadowed streets of Central City had already fallen dark. Lamps came on and people walked a little faster. No matter the season, it was always a little cool. Close to the Wall, overlooking the lake, it was worse. His duster was heavy and familiar around his shoulders as he walked at a brisk pace. His hat hid his face from plain view, and not a single person paid the retired Tin Man any mind.

The district where he lived was mostly military and enforcement, with the only residences in cramped, old buildings like his own. Closer to the palace, however, the streets became more crowded, louder, happier. He nodded, touched the brim of his hat to the guards as he walked through the gate. Not bothering to slow himself, he moved quickly along the path that led around the palace to the private entrance. The guards that flanked the doors nodded in recognition, but said nothing to him. The sound of his boots on the stone steps was replaced with muffled silence as the thick carpet of the hall swallowed any noise he made.

Once the elevator had brought him to her floor, he made straight for DG's quarters. He was taking over his duties immediately, relieving the corporal as soon as he reached the palace. When he rounded a corner and saw not only the corporal, but his son Jeb, his mouth quirked in suspicion, and his curiosity perked a little higher.

Both young men were standing at ease outside DG's sitting room door. They were engaging in casual conversation, which was cut short when Jeb stopped mid-sentence at the sight of his father. "Captain," he said with a smirk and a nod. Cain clapped his son on the shoulder in greeting, but retracted his arm quickly at the yell and the crash that came from the other side of the door.

Wyatt's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What's goin' on in there?" he demanded, looking from one young man to the other. Jeb only rolled his eyes, and Hass shook his head back and forth slowly.

"No idea, sir," the corporal said, as he turned his head to look at the heavy door. There was another shout. Hass shrugged his shoulders in a dismissive sort of way. "She's been like this a lot lately. The Princess Royal is in there right now with her."

Cain eyed the door cautiously. "You're dismissed, Corporal," he said after a moment, and Hass breathed a sigh of relief. "Head home and enjoy your time off. I expect I'll be in touch soon."

Carefully, thankfully, Hass nodded. Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed in the direction from which Cain had just come; somewhere in the city, a very neglected young wife would be keeping her husband abed for a few days. As Wyatt watched the corporal break into a run at the end of the hallway, he felt a twinge of sympathy to the young lady who would be sending her husband off, for unknown reason, for an unknown amount of time, without knowing the true danger she was watching him march off to.

Another crash. A sob.

He turned his attention back to the door, and watched as Jeb flinched when a second clatter sounded. The unhappy line of his lips settling a little more firmly, Cain reached out to knock on the door, but as he raised his fist, his son spoke up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Cain sighed in exasperation. "What's been goin' on that I don't know about?"

Jeb considered his words carefully as he stood under his father's intense glare. When he didn't speak right away, Wyatt's eyes hardened further. "Spit it out, Jeb," he warned.

"Well," Jeb said slowly, with an air of someone drawing a deep, and difficult conclusion, "In my opinion, I think she's starting to crack." Wyatt's eyebrows raised again as his son continued to speak. "She's been breaking down a lot. Crying. Azkadellia is in there right now trying to calm her down."

"How long ago did this start?" Cain asked.

Jeb shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno, I guess it started after you left this last time. Its been getting worse. Royal physician has been up a couple of times to give her something to sleep. Hass told me that one. I figured its just stress."

Cain said nothing, as he listened to DG's crying continue. His son, though his intentions were good, had no idea of the true meaning behind any of this, but it hit Wyatt now in the chest like a sackful of bricks, heavy and obvious. Jeb knew nothing of the pressure DG was truly under. What she had to worry about on top of – or her perhaps underneath of – the lessons, and the events, the world of fake smiles and words.

The Emerald. The Gale. The lights, the face, the message.

There was a door slam and the crying abruptly stopped. He glanced quickly at his son before steeling himself, and opening the door without knocking. It was time to relieve Azkadellia, and see what he could do to help.

As she turned to face the door, Azkadellia's mouth was open to scold whomever had dared enter without knocking, but when her dark eyes set onto Cain, her words fell short and her mouth trembled closed. He'd laid eyes on her first; he didn't speak, waited for her to tell him, as his eyes surveyed the room.

"She's gone to bed." As the older princess spoke, he noticed broken glass near the fireplace; some nameless, useless trinket had been thrown in fury. "I think she put a silencing spell up around the room, I can't hear her crying." A chair was laying on its side. Nothing else seemed out of place. "She has too much to worry about, and a lot has been going on... My – well, never mind, I'll let her tell you. But, she received this today."

Cain looked up at Az again, as she reached for a folded piece of paper on the desk. She looked tired, anxious, extraordinarily pale. He frowned; DG was not the only one under so much stress that it was starting to affect her physically. He took his hat off then, realizing that it should have come off the moment he'd entered the room. He hung it over an extinguished lamp.

"You doin' all right?" he asked her, a little cautiously.

Az waved him off dismissively. "Nothing a little rest wouldn't fix." She handed him the paper. Unfolding it, Cain scanned the letter; it was written simply, but his frown deepened the more he read.

A letter from her Nurture Units, declining DG's invitation to the coronation. _'Our presence would be inappropriate,'_ popped out from the page; _'We hope this letter finds you in good health, Your Highness,'_ stood out as well. Formal, uncomfortable, the letter was nothing like the units he'd seen enthusiastically embracing their foster daughter in Milltown an annual before... _before _the Sorceress's virus had its unfortunate effect, forever damaging the processors of the units. They remembered the girl, the years they'd spent caring for her on the Other Side, but... the emotional attachment they'd been programmed to feel was gone. She was not their daughter, and never would be again.

When he handed the letter back to Az, the glimmer of guilt and sorrow in her eyes was hard to miss, though she tried to keep her face straight and impassive. Not her fault, she didn't need reminding of this, didn't need to think she'd caused her sister this pain.

"Head to bed, Your Highness," he said, as kindly as he could. "I can take care of things here."

Though Az nodded in agreement, she didn't smile; she was stiff, the expression on her face distant to him. "Thank you, Captain. Good evening." She slipped past him and left the room, taking her guard with her. Damn, he hadn't thought that one through; he'd have to track his son down in the morning.

After he turned the offended chair upright, he strode the length of the sitting room and knocked on the bedroom door. There was silence from within; the door felt slightly warm under his knuckles as he rapped a second time. When he tried the handle, he was surprised to find it unlocked. Pushing it open slightly, he called out her name. Still silence; the room was dark, the light from the sitting room spilling in.

When he stepped fully into the room, he felt something wash over him, warm and pleasant and gone in an instant; he felt as though he'd crossed more than a physical threshold when he walked into the room. As soon as the sensation had stopped, he heard her sniffling softly, an occasional whimper escaping her.

"Wh-what do you want?" she asked.

He closed the door behind himself; he wasn't sure she'd looked up to see him enter, perhaps she thought he was Azkadellia. "DG." He said her name again, and he heard her move, the rustle of blankets; she was on the bed.

In the dark, she let out a low, defeated moan. "Jeez," she sighed, her voice thick with too much crying. Sleep would claim her soon, that much he was sure of. "Can't I just wallow in my misery in _peace_?"

Cain didn't move from his spot by the door. "I can wait outside if you'd like, Darlin'."

"No," she said with a sniffle, and he could hear her swallowing back her tears; she didn't want him to see her crying. I'm sorry. I'm just having a bad day." On her last two words, _bad day_, her voice cracked, and in those tiny, vulnerable fissures, he could feel great unrest radiating. He made his way to the bed, standing at the foot and wrapping a hand around the post. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make her out, curled up on the bed... she was wearing a white dress, easy to make out.

He stood in silence; he knew his presence would soon drive her to distraction, and she'd start spilling. All she ever needed was a little prompting. There was nothing he could do to make her feel better, or to change the things that bothered her, upset her... all he could do was stand there, and know that that, in and of itself, was good enough. He watched as she crawled to the end of the bed, so that she might lean her head against his hand, with the frame between them.

"You should've told me you've been feelin' this way," he told her, when it became clear she was only going to sniffle and hiccup as she calmed herself out of her upset.

DG pushed air through her lips disbelievingly before she laughed.

"There's nothing you can do, Tin Man. You can't make this better."

Sighing, knowing she was right, he frowned again. Reached out with the hand on the bedpost to stroke her hair. She looked up at him, face in shadow, but he hoped there was at least a faint trace of a smile on her mouth. "You're right there's nothin' to be done," he said slowly, "but it might've kept you from cryin' like this."

Cain watched her carefully as she rose up on her knees, turned and put her arms about his shoulders. With the frame still between them, he wrapped his arms around her small body. "I'm scared," she whispered into his neck, her lips brushing his skin as she spoke. "Standing around waiting for someone to die. God, even just the thought of it is making me sick. We have to go, and I don't know where we have to go. We have to find a way... _destroy the Emerald._ How? _How_?" She was shaking her head now, letting go. She slumped against him, and he held her steady. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

He felt a smirk creep up onto his face . "When have you ever, Darlin'? You've always managed just fine," he said softly into her hair. She doubted herself, she was tearing herself up over her worries of her insufficiency to complete the task the Gale had set for her.

Wyatt only tightened his grip on her, propping her relaxing body against his chest. All the strength and courage he'd come to know were there, somewhere, underneath the exterior she'd built up this past annual. She had enough backbone for three people, she only needed to remember the free bird she'd been before being locked up in this gilded cage.

"When we leave here," she said, the bare whisper muffled into the collar of his coat, "I think I want to stop in Milltown."

Cain nodded. It didn't surprise him; even without having read the letter, it wouldn't have surprised him. It only made sense. When he didn't contest her, she snuggled deeper into him, her warm cheek pressed into his neck, her breaths at first shallow, then lengthening, deepening as she truly settled and calmed.

After a few minutes, she braced herself against his chest and pushed away. "I have a headache," she said, putting her head in her hands. Her voice was stronger, and he'd bet that her eyes were dry.

"I'm not surprised," he said with a chuckle, "after all that cryin'."

"Will you lie down with me for a while?" she asked, and he kissed the top of her head in compliance. Still fully dressed, she flopped down on the mattress. She burrowed herself into the blankets, and after kicking off his boots and removing his jacket, he stretched out beside her, letting his arm rest over her. She was looking up at him, and placing a soft kiss on the side of his mouth. "Cain, will you promise me something?"

He hesitated. Promises were too dangerous for people in their situation. "What can I promise, DG?"

There was a faint smile in her voice, though she'd stiffened slightly at his hesitance. "Can you promise not to die in the next four days?"

He chuckled low in his throat, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her breathing was already beginning to slow; exhausted from crying, from her outburst before he'd arrived, she was falling asleep. "I can try, Princess."

There, that wasn't a promise.

* * *

***

* * *

The high ceiling of the Inner Temple was intricately carved with the symbols of the Ancients; though Glitch had been teaching her, DG had never encountered any of the marks displayed above her before. The only ones she knew for sure, high up where she could barely see, were the pictures for Light and Dark.

At the altar sat a throne, amidst a thousand burning candles set on pedestals, on the floor, on every available surface. On either side of the ornate, gold throne stood a Holy Priest, and a third stood in front; three holy men representative of their three deities. DG's tongue was clenched between her front teeth, as she stopped herself from asking her father an endless stream of questions. Silently, she watched as her sister walked down the aisle in the middle of the temple. People stood as she passed, bowed, curtsied, whispered prayers. Deep down, it saddened her to know her sister desperately needed the prayers of strangers.

Azkadellia walked slowly, her steps cautious, but purposeful. Eyes straight ahead, chin trembling, DG could see how much her sister shook. When she reached the altar steps, she stopped long enough for one of her ladies' maids to step forward and remove the heavy mantle from about her sister's shoulders; the Temple was so quiet that DG could hear the clink of the fastening being undone. Az stood with her back to the assemblage, her shoulders bare in a strapless emerald green gown. She wore no jewelry, nor regalia. Her hair hung long and dark down her back, no decoration. In her simplest form, wearing the color of her family, she stood firm and unbending, but faint and far off inside her head, DG could swear she heard a little girl crying.

Az mounted the four alter steps, and then lowered onto both knees in supplication before the Holy Priests. The mass seemed to hold a collective breath as the future queen was anointed with oil; DG frowned, looked away, when she saw the priest doing the ritual pause in fear before touching the tops of Az's breasts with the oil. He hesitated to touch the creamy, unmarred flesh where the marks of the Witch had once stood out, black, on her skin.

_They're still scared of her,_ DG thought as she closed her eyes.

Had nothing her family had done for the country, for the Reconstruction, mattered at all in the past year?

DG bit her lip as Azkadellia lowered herself into the throne, resting in its sea of candles; the throne sparkled in the dancing light. The breath the room was holding was released in a long exhale. She shifted her glance upward, to the balcony, where Cain stood next to a great stone pillar, observing the ceremony. His eyes were alert, scanning the room; he didn't see her watching him. She knew what mattered most to him this moment was the safety of her sister, of her family, despite the fact he assured her he was there only for her. She knew he worried about assassination attempts, though even she also knew not a single person in the Zone would do such a thing inside the Temple. Her sister was safe, for now...

_For now... don't think like that_, she scolded herself, turning back to the altar.

"Your Majesty, Azkadellia," the First Holy Priest spoke, not only to the woman seated on the throne but to those gathered as witness. His voice reverberated off the high walls, heard by all. "Do you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of this Great Kingdom, and its five most worthy provinces, according to its laws and customs?"

Az tried to speak, but her voice came out as barely a whisper. She cleared her throat, and tried again. "I promise and swear to do so."

"Sixth Queen of the House of Gale, will you, in your great Light and power, cause justice and mercy to be executed in all your judgments?"

With the faintest trace of a nod, Azkadellia spoke, her voice growing stronger. "I promise and swear to do so." Though her sister's demeanor was perfectly calm and collected, DG could almost feel her shaking; as if she could take some of her sister's nervousness and fear into herself, her very nerve endings seemed to be on edge, vibrating.

It was almost over... it _had_ to be almost over. She felt like she'd been there forever, and the small tiara woven into her hair on top of her head had gone from a minor nuisance to a full-on headache; she looked sideways, slowly raising her eyes; they caught Cain's, as he stared down at her with a slight curve to his lips, a hidden smile.

Her mother had appeared, catching DG's attention once again. Beside her was one of the priests, holding a red, velvet cushion on which rested the gold coronation circlet. Unlike most monarchies she'd ever heard of, DG was surprised to learn that the Queen of the O.Z. always stepped down to pass the throne to her daughter, instead of the heir being crowned upon the previous ruler's death.

Locasta picked up the delicate circlet, and for the briefest moment caught DG's eyes, as Cain had moments before. Her mother's lavender eyes were soft, reassuring; this was right, this would be beautiful. The crown would not be passed if this was not the proper choice.

She imagined herself, not for the first time, sitting in Azkadellia's place, and her stomach churned. _But would I rather be up there sitting on the throne, or standing here worrying about the promise of blood and death?_

Her own heart was pounding as the coronation circlet was placed on Azkadellia's head, as she was handed a silver scepter, and an emerald ring slipped on her finger as a symbol of her marriage to her kingdom. As she was announced _Her Majesty, the Queen Azkadellia of the Outer Zone,_ the entire congregation fell to their collective knee to bow before their new ruler.

When DG got to her feet, helped by her father, she expected to see a change in her sister; she wanted to see that something was different. Instead, she saw a girl who was slowly shrinking, the corners of her mouth trembling dangerously into a frown. The First Holy Priest stepped forward to help Azkadellia to her feet, and as she rose, the hall broke into soft applause, which grew, very slowly, into a roar. A few cheers echoed from the back of the room.

A great relief swept over DG as Az walked out of the hall. After the doors had closed, she sat down hard on the wooden bench beneath her, as close to a flop as her formal gown would allow. Her father looked down at her with an amused smile on his lips, before holding out a hand for her. There were still things to do... _No time to sit, stop dallying, DG. Get your butt in gear. Out of the hall, smile and wave at the people in Gale Square. Keep an eye out, oh God oh God don't let anything bad happen._

_

* * *

_

***

* * *

Dusk was settling over Central City by the time the royal family and their escorts made it back to Alta Torretta. The Coronation Ball was to take place the next night. Celebrations were happening all over the city, people crying out their drunken loyalty to the new queen. Somewhere in the circus of cars and passengers, reporters and supporters milling around the palace, DG had lost track of her sister.

"I want to go see Azkadellia," DG told Cain as he opened the door to her sitting room. She practically fell into the room; her tight slippers had come off the minute the elevator door had closed, and she threw them down onto a chair now, promising herself to never put another pair of shoes on her feet again.

"I doubt she's up for visitors," Cain said as he closed the door.

DG frowned at him. "She needs to see a friendly face now more than anything. She doesn't need to be stuck in a room with just her bodyguard right now."

Cain smiled, the first true smile she'd seen him give since his arrival at the palace four days before, when he'd held her in the dark until she slept. "You sayin' something against your sister's bodyguard?"

DG laughed. "You know I didn't mean it like that. Jeb is fine, but..." she trailed off, not sure what to say. What a corner to be backed into. She knew he was teasing, and she was so happy that there could be something lighthearted amidst all the chaos that had happened that day. Strange, that she could be happy. It hadn't seemed possible in the last weeks, hadn't seemed possible that very morning, as she'd taken deep breaths before braving the mirror. But there had been nothing, nothing for weeks, not since she'd been given her warning... as if whomever was trying to reach out to her had said what needed to be said and was done... but for how long? She didn't want to think about it.

She changed her clothes quickly, slipping into a pair of cotton pants and a tank top. She tossed a robe on over top, knowing the glances she'd get if she passed anyone in the halls with her top half mostly uncovered. Regulations, restrictions, she'd be so glad to break away from all this... to head East along the Old Road to try and find the answers that were hidden for her.

Someone, something would help her find out how to destroy the magic of the Emerald. She didn't even know where to begin looking...

Cain followed her along the halls to Azkadellia's room, his presence a comfort. She could feel his eyes on her as she navigated the halls, and when she entered Az's room, she gestured for him to follow, but he only declined, said he'd wait for her out in the hallway.

She frowned at him. "You don't have to do that, Wyatt."

He shook his head. "You need some time with your sister before we get on the road, whenever that's gonna be. I'll wait here, you go on, Kiddo."

Sighing, she realized he was right. She closed the sitting room door behind her, leaving Wyatt on his own. She took a few tentative steps into the room. The lamps were out, but the bedroom door was wide open and light spilled out. "Az?" DG called out. She could hear faint sounds coming from the bedroom.

As she crossed the living room, she called out to her sister again, and jumped in surprise when Jeb came walking out of the bedroom, looking harried. "Hey!" he exclaimed at the sight of her. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on my sister."

Jeb smiled nervously. "She's in her bathroom. She's not feeling that great. Go in, I'll wait out here."

DG eyed him suspiciously for a moment; he was anxious, though the young man was usually very collected, as calm as his father. She liked Jeb, but at the moment, something seemed off. Very off. Shaking it off, simply because she couldn't stand there and stare at him wondering what his problem was, she walked into Azkadellia's bedroom. The covers were pulled back on the bed, sitting on its raised platform, but the sheets were still crisp and untouched.

The adjoining bathroom door was ajar. "Az?" she said for a third time. She could hear the sound of retching coming from within. Her heart plummeted. "Are you okay?" she asked as she stopped just outside the door.

"Yeah," her sister said weakly, her voice echoing slightly in the massive bathroom. It registered faintly in the back of her mind that soon Azkadellia would be moving to the Queen's residential level, and that her mother and father would be leaving Central City to return to the Northern Island. Soon, the mirrored entryway would be Azkadellia's.

The toilet flushed and the water ran. DG pushed on the door to see Azkadellia standing at the sink, staring down at her cupped hands, the water she held in them slowly dripping between her fingers. "What's wrong?" DG asked slowly, leaning against the door frame.

"My nerves are just..." was all her sister said, but somehow DG knew that was a lie. Azkadellia finally brought her hands to her face, bathed her cheeks in water. Raising her head, she stared herself hard in the mirror, taking a small towel to dry her face. "I'm glad you were there with me today, DG," Az said quietly. "Thank you, I didn't want to do it alone."

"Of course," DG said with a smile. She understood, too well, how her sister could have felt alone standing up before an entire country.

"It could have been you up there, you know."

DG's smile never faltered, though it was a struggle to keep it up. "I know." Somehow, she doubted it. Somehow, she knew it was always Azkadellia meant to sit on the throne, and she felt, suddenly, like her five-year-old self, staring in awe at her big sister, worshiping her in silence... never knowing how short their time together would be.

Azkadellia felt the twinge in DG's emotions, as clearly as if it were her own. "You leave soon," she said softly, turning her face away from the mirror to look into the round face, the blue eyes of her little sister, her saving grace. "Promise me you'll be careful. And that you'll come back as soon as possible."

Solemnly, DG nodded.

Azkadellia gave a weak smile, one that quivered and disappeared quickly. "You'll be fine on the road," she said, more to herself than to her sister, talking to herself a strange comfort. She paused, and as DG watched her sister, she noticed Az slipping away, accepting the fact that she'd soon be alone in Central City. All she could do was hug her sister, knowing in her heart that Az would be fine, that her sister supported what she had to do.

* * *

***

* * *

Hours later, alone in her bed, DG tossed fitfully, dreaming a familiar dream.

_She stumbled upon him as if by accident. His back pressed against the rough bark of the tree, face shadowed under the brim of his hat. His fingers brushed the leather belt just above his gun. "Stay sharp, Darlin'. We're bein' watched."_

_He was frightening her. "Runners?" she asked, looking about. The dead expanse of the Papay fields spread out around them as far as she could see._

"_No. Dark eyes." He raised his own to hers, intense and alert and cutting straight through to her very core. _"_Can't say from where just yet. I'll keep an eye out, you just figure out what we're supposed to do." _

"_I don't think I can." She barely managed to find the words. Ashamed, so ashamed. This task on her shoulders, she only had to take action._

"_Oh, you will," he drawled, and he smirked, as if he found their unpreparedness amusing. This lost cause, fool's hope... she knew he liked a long shot. "We can just walk the Old Road. It always finds you, eventually."_

She awoke with a start, dazed and in complete darkness. Nestled in her warm bed, somehow she knew she was making the right decision. Muttering a soft mantra to herself, she curled into her pillow and tried to fall back asleep.

"All of life's answers can be found along the Old Road."

* * *

_(Author's Note II: Everyone is antsy to get this journey on the road, me most of all! We are finally, finally into the real story! Are you worried about who has a number on their forehead? Oh, it could be anyone... reviews are always appreciated, I love to hear feedback!)  
_


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Just after dawn on the morning after the Coronation Ball, mere hours after the last of the patrons had stumbled home, DG was crawling quietly out of bed. She had only dozed, hadn't slept a true wink, wasn't sure if she'd ever sleep again. She couldn't stop her mind from racing in this period of waiting that seemed to want to stretch on and on.

Anniversary. Coronation. Coronation ball. And now the dawn of a new day, the suns still sunken below the horizon; a third day, time marching on. The nights were getting cool now, that promise of autumn, of harvest time. Cain had mentioned this offhandedly the night before – though if she was honest about it, it had only been a little over three hours before, when they'd reached her room after hours of trying to sneak away from the ball.

"Temperature's started droppin' at night," he'd said when she'd told him she felt chilly. "Not low enough to make things hard, but enough to be a bit uncomfortable."

She'd nodded, knowing full well what he was truly trying to imply. There wouldn't be a bed to sleep in every night, but sleeping outdoors wasn't something that was unknown to either of them. Depending on their luck, what happened to them, what information they managed to find, they could be on the road anywhere from a few weeks to a few months; honestly, she knew neither of them was stupid enough to think this was going to be even remotely easy.

_Follow your heart... the Old Road... follow, all of life's answers..._

Poking her head out of the bedroom, she saw that the sitting room was empty and quiet. It was too early her maids, too early for breakfast. Cain had told her he wouldn't be leaving her, but she didn't see him. Nothing in the room seemed to indicate that he'd ever been there at all, not even the faintest trace in the air, the leather of his belt nor the scent of the outdoors that somehow seemed to linger about his coat.

Taking her opportunity, she skipped silently out of her room and down the hallway. She took the stairs, followed the practiced path to her parents' suite. Though the hour was barely five, she knew they'd be awake. They weren't expecting her, but sneaking out to see them seemed to be in her cards. Cain's absence in her room only cemented that belief. Meant to be; who in their right mind would argue with that logic?

Finally reaching the long hall that led to her parents' quarters, she could see she'd been right to come so early. A pair of stewards were carrying a heavy-looking trunk in between them, probably some of the very last of the luggage. The men bowed their heads to her as she passed, and she offered them a smile in return. Coming to the open doorway, she leaned in to see her father helping her mother into a linen travel coat.

DG cleared her throat. "Surprise." She didn't have the energy to sound enthusiastic, and they didn't seem to be in the mood to accept it. Everyone was drained, anxious, unwilling to relax and be caught unawares. But her parents were happy to see her, that much was plain on their faces, and though she didn't realize it until that very moment, it was exactly what she needed.

"My Angel," her mother said in the softest of voices, holding out her hands for her daughter to run to. The embrace of her mother seemed to go on and on, perhaps much like the embrace she must have gotten that last day, as her mother had handed her over to Hank and Emily. A tight hug that was full of promise, conveying all love and holding none of it back, simply because the chance of it being the last for a long time, the last forever was so great.

"What are you doing awake, DG?" Ahamo asked her, amusement and affection clear in his voice. It was as if he'd expected nothing less, for her to pull one more stunt before he left, sneak it in, and he was nothing short of thrilled.

_You're everything I'd hoped you'd be... I am so proud of you..._

That little endearment, on the ridge, seconds before the Sorceress had swooped down on them over a year before. Sure, he'd never muttered such things again, but his eyes seemed to tell her exactly that, that she was doing well and that he was proud. She smiled at him from the shelter of her mother's arms, and when her mother finally let her go, Ahamo reached for her hand, to give it a comforting squeeze. She was strangely thankful he didn't try to hug her, though a tiny hidden part of her seemed sad over it.

Ahamo turned away to shrug his arms into his coat, as DG stood back next to her mother. They'd done their goodbyes the night before, truly had nothing left to say, no promises or declarations or kind words. Just silence, the comfort of presence. When her father was ready, her mother gave her another quick hug.

"We'll see you as soon as you return. Come to us," her mother said. The voice was strong, as strong as DG ever really heard her mother; the woman gave everyone in the world a soft word, a breathy whisper, but now, Gale to Gale, there was conviction in the woman's voice and steel in her lavender eyes.

DG took a deep breath, as if she could take some of her mother's assurance into herself. "I will, Mother."

As her mother was walking out of the room, her father hung back two paces to lean in close. "Don't go getting married on the road," he said, and though he tried to sound commanding, DG could hear the barest hint of pleading. "Please," her father tacked on, backing up her suspicions. She nodded, smiled a full smile, pleased to no end suddenly in this reaffirmation of love from both of her biological parents. This was no stiff conduct in front of guards and servants; this was private, familial, and utterly just for her.

The swelling of her heart subsided quickly, like air being let out of a balloon. Soon she was standing alone in an empty room, what was now, technically, Azkadellia's bedroom. She waited, uncomfortably, until she knew her parents had gone, before leaving to make her way back to her own suite, trying to quash the thought of when she'd next see them. She had been gone barely fifteen minutes, she could be back to her room and in her bed before anyone – namely her new bodyguard – ever knew she'd been gone.

She met no one, thankfully, and was able to fly down the four flights of stairs in a very unladylike manner. She hit the final landing with a thump, as she jumped the last three steps. The hallway on the other side of the door was dark and empty, and she moved slower now, quietly, her soft slippers making no sound on the tiled floor.

DG was five feet from her bedroom door when Cain came striding around the corner at the other end of the hallway. If he was relieved to see her, it didn't show on his completely unimpressed face. She slid to a stop on the floor, unsure if she wanted to make a break for the bedroom, or if she wanted to stall in the hallway where he was less likely to kill her.

"Is this gonna be a regular occurrence with you, Princess?" he asked her, as he continued to walk purposefully towards her. She pressed her lips together, trying to look innocent as he crossed the distance and came to a stop in front of her, so very, very close to her.

"Possibly," she said, with her most convincing 'I didn't do it' grin. In wordless response, he raised his hand to grip her firmly by the upper arm. Just to hold her still, nothing more, but the promise of more was there, in every flex of his fingers. "Okay," she said, relenting a bit, just the tiniest bit, "more like probably."

"No reason for you to be wanderin' the halls at five a.m.," he said.

"And what reason is there for _you_ to be wandering the halls at five a.m?" she countered.

With a sigh, Wyatt looked down at DG. His eyes were hard, and his lip twitched as he seemed to be making up his mind. After a moment more, he dropped his hand from her arm and nodded his head towards her suite, the movement a rough jerk. She walked slowly towards it and let herself in; he followed closely behind her, and she felt as if she were most certainly being marched to her doom.

When the door was closed behind them, she settled herself into a chair, sure that she was going to get, at the very least, a lecture. She watched as he slowly, meticulously took off his hat and duster; she had these motions memorized, but still loved to watch him every time he went through them. It was like witnessing him remove his armor, as he let down his guard for her, and it made her feel honored, intimidated. There were so many things she wanted to be for him, a place to rest most of all.

"I was seein' Jeb off," Cain told her. "He's got some obligations need takin' care of."

DG nodded her head slowly. That should have occurred to her; she'd known Jeb was leaving on AR business. It had come up suddenly, but everything always seemed to. Azkadellia had two guards to take his place, though DG had never asked whether Jeb would be returning to the Queen's side or not.

Cain was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him where she'd gone. That much told her he'd been looking for her when they'd run into each other in the hallway. "I went to say goodbye to my parents," she said, studying his face to gauge his reaction to her honesty. He only nodded; he'd probably known that all along.

His blue eyes pierced hers. "Now back to my askin' if this is gonna be regular with you or not, DG," he said, his voice hard. "I don't care how safe you think you are, takin' off is –"

"You're the one that left me alone!" she exclaimed with a laugh, ready with her defense.

"You were sleepin' when I did," he said. "I'll be sure not to make that mistake again."

She grinned at him. "You make things too easy," she said with a laugh.

"And you make things harder than they've gotta be," was his response, which made her laugh louder. "You'd best get back to bed, DG. Get some sleep, no knowin' what..." But here he stopped himself, not continuing on. She sighed, feeling his frustration. Being on constant alert couldn't be any better for him than it was for her, especially since his level of alertness was probably a lot higher than hers.

Only wanting to help, she reached for him as she got up out of the chair. "Come with me?"

"You need to sleep."

"So do you."

"Well, I won't get any even if I try."

"Neither will I," she pointed out.

Cain frowned at her, and let out a heavy sigh that seemed to carry too much with it. Though she could see on his face he had no intention of bedding down with her, she was surprised when he walked over to where she stood by her open bedroom door. He swept her up into his arms, nearly lifting her off her feet in his effort to get her face as close to his as possible. She bit her lip to stop herself from talking as his eyes roved hungrily over her face, lingering slowly, but not permanently, over her lips.

"A few more days at most, Darlin'," he whispered fiercely, as if this fact were slowly shredding him in the same way it was tearing at her. "Just a few more and we'll be outta here. I'll be able to hold you through the night and we can both get some sleep."

DG nodded, knowing he was right. She didn't let go of her bottom lip, kept herself from saying that she didn't want to wait a few more days and didn't care what anyone at the palace thought of them. Her eyes must have whispered this fact to him because he chuckled, and pressed a hot, firm kiss to her temple.

"Let's try to stop from causin' a scandal, okay?"

She felt a long exhale escape from her, a sigh of defeat, as she let her head fall against his chest. He was right, somehow he was always right. She loved him for it, hated him for it, and was entirely jealous of the fact. Maybe it was a good thing that no one left her to her own devices, she seemed to have an incredible knack for doing or saying the wrong thing.

When she tilted her head back, his lips fell upon hers to claim her in a kiss. There were promises for more in what he was able to give her, these stolen kisses, these sweet, perfect, beautiful kisses. He knew she needed, knew she craved. He thought of her first, always. That didn't mean he always gave her what she wanted, but she was more than happy with the way things were.

His tongue touched hers briefly, and like a shock to her system it jolted a spike of lust that had her kissing him back hard, sliding her hand up to cup the side of his face. But instead of deepening their kiss, he cleared his throat as he pulled away. His hand covered hers and he slowly extracted her away from him, kissing her palm with his lips as he did so, pressing that same electric sweep of his tongue to her skin.

"Go get some sleep, Deeg," he told her, and the seriousness in his eyes dimmed her arousal, a great gust of wind to extinguish her candle instead of the soft breath that would fan her flames. "I'll wake you if anythin' happens."

* * *

***

* * *

Night fell over Alta Torretta, as it had every night since the royal family's reoccupation of the building. On a lower level, in one of the larger formal dining rooms, DG knew her sister still presided over a state dinner that had the prospect of continuing on for hours. How Az could stomach that kind of thing, DG had never discovered; she seemed to have inherited her father's attitude towards official matters, though a little common sense might say her time on the other side had a lot to do with it.

"She's not payin' attention, Glitch," Cain's deep voice cut into her thoughts, the first words he'd spoken in the hour they'd been shut together in Glitch's study.

Looking up, DG perked her eyebrows in the direction of the two men that were watching her intently. Glitch looked utterly insulted.

"Of course she starts listening when you talk," he said with a sigh, as he nodded towards DG, and how her head had jerked to attention at Cain's words. She frowned at her companions, unsure of what they were talking about, and playing it silent until she knew. She wasn't sure how long ago she'd lost the thread of the conversation, or if she'd ever truly had it to begin with. They could be talking about _anything_...

"I think maybe that's a sign for you to call it quits for today," Cain told Glitch.

Glitch, in response, began to grumble to himself. He was shuffling through papers on the desk, stacking them neatly, putting a few back into stray folders that were scattered on the desktop. Maps, they'd been going over maps, that much she remembered. _'Just in case'_ seemed to be the official term for it. They wanted her ready, prepared; to know the general location of everything in the O.Z. To know that every branch of the Old Road led back to Central City. To know how to find safety should she be separated from her escorts.

_Just in case._

She was tired; not sleeping since the Coronation was starting to catch up with her. She was sure she could go back to her room and collapse into the bed, sleep a few good hours before her thoughts began to churn again, began to seep into her dreams to wake her up, sweaty and crying out and alone.

Glitch looked equally exhausted; his hair, usually combed back and painfully in place, had begun to spill into his eyes, curling every so slightly. Even as she watched him, a stray lock caught onto his eyelashes; he batted it away as if it were a troublesome fly. She smiled, and he caught her looking at him.

"I don't know what else we can go over," he told her. He waved his hand over the entire desktop, a general all-inclusive gesture. "We've gone through it all."

She nodded, knowing this to be true. "Over and over. We're going to be fine."

Glitch looked skeptical of her sure answer. His dark eyes were trained onto her, and he was studying her, as he seemed to study everything his eyes ever laid on. He could take her apart, look at each piece of her, put her back together in a way that made more sense. But she was human, and not a machine, and instead he only tried to cram her full of as much information as he thought her brain could handle. She loved him for it, as he tried to help her in the only way he knew how.

He'd go with them, she knew, with bells attached, too, if he weren't trapped at Azkadellia's side, and though she'd felt upset over this fact at first, she'd come to the slow realization that perhaps Az needed Ambrose more than she, DG, needed Glitch.

"And you know where you're going to start looking?" Glitch asked her, still ready to take apart the entire situation until he understood it fully. _Looking,_ that term that seemed to encompass everything she needed to do, to find a way to destroy the magic of the Emerald... no one ever seemed to wonder aloud if she'd be able to do it, even if she found a way; it crossed all their minds, hers most of all. She didn't need to be able to read minds to know what their said, faraway looks meant.

DG shook her head slowly. "I don't really know where we're going to start looking," she told him. "But we're heading to Milltown. Its as good a place as any to start."

Glitch nodded absently, and she wondered if he guessed at her true intention, if that all she expected to get from Milltown was a few moments with her nurturers, to feel Emily's warm eyes on her, to hear Hank's comforting voice. She missed them, and it seemed to grow as her impatience mounted.

"That old robot might have some information," Glitch said, and though she'd been wistfully thinking of her foster father a second before, he managed to grab her full attention.

"Which old robot?" she asked.

"The old father. You know, the um... the hovering one in need of a haircut," Glitch said, noncommittal with his words as he made a weak gesture with his hands. "He used to be quite a scholar, before the take over. His circuits might be a little scrambled now, but..." He trailed off and shrugged. "Never know unless you ask."

DG shot a glance at Cain, and she could see his mind start to work.

_Follow your heart... all life's answers... _

Maybe she'd made the right choice. Maybe...

There was a sharp rap on the door then, the sound breaking into her thought and sounding so ominous that a part of her seemed to know before her mind caught up that something was desperately wrong; when she'd thought back on it later, she'd remember that her first thought was a prayer for Jeb to be all right.

She sought out Cain again, wondering if he'd felt it to, only to see him raising his eyes slowly to the door, watching it with suspicion. DG swallowed hard, counting her breaths as Glitch crossed the room to the door, unimpressed with the interruption and completely oblivious to his friends' sudden agitation.

Time seemed to stand still, which was a strange sensation, as the world continued to turn and go on. Glitch buttoned his collar, smoothed back his hair before he opened the door. Who stood on the other side, DG couldn't see without getting up, so she watched Cain's face, as he kept his eyes on Glitch, and whomever had come knocking.

Cain's expression seemed to harden even as he watched the advisor, and then suddenly the muscles on the side of his mouth twitched, and he finally looked at DG, his blue eyes frightening her, too serious, too grim.

Glitch walked a few steps backwards, away from the door. He pushed it closed, and once they were sealed inside the room again, his dark, sad eyes turned onto her, and her heart seized in her chest, unsure if it would ever truly beat again. She felt a tremble rising in her, but tried to quell it, to push it down, for if she started to shake, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to stop herself. She remembered this, the bitter taste of fear in her mouth.

"What is it?" she asked him, knowing something was wrong. _Just say it, what is it? Who... who?_

"The Queen," Glitch said slowly, swallowing after he'd said the word. "Um, we need to go see the Queen."

"Az?" DG said, even as she clambered to her feet. Glitch was opening the door, and she was going through; Cain was close behind as Glitch led the way. She didn't know where she was supposed to go, only that he would lead her, that she would follow him. In the palace, he knew. She might not trust Glitch's sense of direction outside the city any further than she could throw him, but here in the palace, she let him guide her.

"I can't really say," Glitch said, "I don't know. He didn't have much information."

"Who didn't?"

"Your sister's guard."

Her mind whirled with a thousand questions as they reached the elevator. The trip down was silent, and the lift stopped on the thirtieth level. Purposefully now, knowledge dawning as to where she was going, DG broke into a run and left Cain and Glitch behind. Neither of them hurried to follow her, to catch her. They let her go...

Two guards flanked the doors of her sister's former suite. Why were they here? Most of Azkadellia's things had been moved out of this room over the course of the day, why weren't they on the thirty-fourth level, in the massive grand Royal suite? Ignoring these out of place, nonsense thoughts, she opened the door; the guards made no move to stop her.

The sitting room was dark, and mostly empty. Anything that had truly made the room Azkadellia's, personal effects, paintings, plants, had been moved. Though the room was spotlessly clean and full of furniture, it somehow felt dreary, void of life. The door to the bedroom was wide open, and bright light spilled out. As she crept slowly across the room, one of her sister's maids came through the doorway, carrying an armload of sheets, bundled tightly to hide it, but DG caught the smallest glimpse as the maid hurried past, the crimson stain of blood.

_Blood. _Her heart seemed to stop altogether, a painful lurch in her chest. The maid, a young girl barely older than herself, caught her eyes as she swept out of the room; the look was fearful, sorrowful. Taking a deep breath, DG moved into the doorway.

In the middle of the room was Azkadellia's bed, raised up high, and on it rested her sister. Chewing on her lip, she peered in, taking in the image of Az, sleeping as if dead, but not, as DG had feared, _dead_. Even in her haze of worry, DG knew her sister was very much alive.

Nearer to her, closing the clasps on a black bag that sat on a table in front of him, was the court physician, Professor Lyman. "Ah," he said to DG, as if he were happy to see her. "Your Highness. Your sister asked that you be sent for, but she seems to have fallen asleep for the moment. I wouldn't worry that she'll sleep too long." He looked at her very seriously. It unnerved her, his piercing stare that was telling her things she wasn't quite ready to hear yet. Looking away, unable to bear it, her eyes caught the tiny metal nameplate set near the handle of the type of bag that doctors on the other side now kept as antiques. _Professor M. R. V. Lyman. _

"Is she okay?" DG asked. The blood on the sheets sprang to the foremost of her mind.

The professor cast a sidelong glance at the Queen of the O.Z., looking so weakened and so very human, laying on her side, curled up in on herself. "She will be," he said slowly. "But that woman has a very great secret, and if she doesn't want to jeopardize her office, she'd best be a lot more careful. She's still young, and healing, however. Time..."

DG didn't like his tone, wasn't quite sure she understood him. "What do you mean?" she asked, risking her foolishness. Even after a year, such political innuendos mostly flew over her head.

"The Queen," he said slowly, "has just suffered a miscarriage." He paused when she closed her eyes, fought back a wave of emotion that felt too much like nausea. Az... her poor sister... The professor continued. "Such conduct on her part is hardly becoming, and could greatly affect the public opinion of her, which is wary at best, as it is. Now, I don't think she needs reminding of such things." He looked again to Az. "She's hurting and upset, but physically, she'll be fine. She'll carry an heir yet, though pray to the Gods she's a legitimate one." His eyes settled on her again, and despite herself, she scowled at him, hating him for his derisive tone. "When she awakens, she's going to need you. If you'll excuse me, I need to go have a few words with the maid that was here." And without another word, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

DG stood and watched her sleeping sister. She could see the rise and fall of her sister's frame as she breathed rhythmically in and out, but the breaths were soft, the sound lost in the expanse of room. She put her face in her hands, simply because her head felt too heavy for her neck to support. In this moment of discovery, and acceptance, she didn't quite know what to think. Questions were swirling in her mind, mingled with things she knew to be true, which was, first and foremost, the knowledge that it took two to make a baby.

"Az..." DG said slowly, quietly, lest she wake her sister. She crossed the room, stepped up onto the platform to kneel at the side of the bed. On the other side of the door, she could hear soft shuffling, the faint undertone of male voices; Glitch and Wyatt, standing outside the door, waiting for her.

Without really thinking, she reached out and took hold of her sister's hand, and clung tight; pale white light radiated from their clasped hands, evidence of their deeper connection. The warmth, the change caused Az to stir; her dark eyes opened, deep and dead, set into the white of her face.

"It was really fast," she said, croaking in a raw voice that wasn't really her own. "I knew what was happening when it started. I just knew. I can't..." she trailed off, looking down and so very sad, but when she returned her gaze to DG, there was fierce resolution there. "This didn't happen, DG. It never... do you understand?"

DG smirked, however inappropriately. "Yes, I understand. Most of our lives _didn't happen_, remember?"

Azkadellia's eyes trembled, glazed over with tears, but with a deep breath, she managed to push them away. DG watched her sister in silence, waiting until she realized her sister wasn't going to say... _anything_. When she left this room, true, it would never have happened, but now, in the safety of each other's company, DG had questions she wanted answered. Whether her sister would confide in her or not, she wasn't sure. She tried not to be doubtful... it was obvious her sister had been sharing very little.

"You knew you were?" DG whispered, uncertain of where to start.

Azkadellia nodded. DG took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. Her next question seemed not to want to form on her lips. After a moment of struggle, she managed – barely.

"Who –" DG began to ask, but Azkadellia's eyes silenced her with sudden, renewed ferocity. Like gasoline thrown onto a fire, the darkness in her sister's eyes flared bright, and DG felt a surge through their joined hands.

"No. You cannot ask me that. I forbid it." Azkadellia's voice was so firm that, despite the paleness of her face, she seemed more than ever now the Queen of the O.Z., and she meant business. Here, alone, where she might have been the broken girl, where she might have let down her defenses for her sister, she instead stood strong, defending herself to the only person she didn't need to.

DG backed off immediately, though she didn't let go of Az's hand. "All right. I won't ask again."

There was silence then, that seemed to fill the room like smoke, visible and layered on the air. Az tightened her grip as her face contorted in a grimace. She was in pain, and DG's heart felt like it had a fist around it, squeezing it uncomfortably. When Az's pain seemed to subside, she closed her eyes, turning her face into her pillow, mumbling something about wanting to go back to sleep.

DG didn't say anything more, nor did she move; she only stayed as a quiet, comforting presence. She pushed away any and all emotion that she felt; worrying that she was selfish in her petty hurt at the lack of Az's, when her sister had just lost a life, no matter how small or new it had been.

And that's when it hit her, with such clarity and with such force that it nearly knocked her physically over.

Tears sprang to her eyes then, unbidden, at the thought of what she was about to do. She slowly untangled her fingers from her sister's, and as she rose, she pressed a kiss to her sister's slightly damp forehead.

_I love you,_ she whispered.

_I love you, too,_ Azkadellia whispered back, though she didn't open her eyes.

DG moved quickly and quietly out of the room, closing the door behind her. When she turned, both Cain and Glitch had turned towards her. The combined intensity of their stares hit her hard, and she nearly doubled back from it, simply because she was too focused on what needed to be done to stop and deal with either of them.

Without thinking long on what she was doing, she crossed the room with long strides, to wrap her arms around Glitch; he held out his own in surprise at her sudden embrace, but after a moment let his arms fall about her to hug her. "Is she gonna be okay?" he asked her, strangely informal and comfortable with it, so distracting was his worry, and it dawned on her that he thought her mind was focused on Azkadellia; as it rightly should have been, but such were circumstances that she didn't have time to stop and ponder. If this was going to happen, it had to happen now. Best to get this first, painful step out of the gate over with as fast as possible.

"Tell her that I said 'goodbye'," she said, her voice cracking. God, she didn't want to do this. Something inside her told her, this wasn't a 'leave at first light' situation. "I'll send a message as soon as I can, but I don't know..."

Wyatt spoke up from behind her, in a very low tone. "What are you goin' on about, DG?"

"Please don't go drawing too much attention to yourself," was Glitch's only advice. He gave her one last comforting squeeze before letting her go.

She pulled away from Glitch, giving him a smile as she did, and he returned it; his dark eyes were warm and trusting. Easier than the other one... she refused to meet Cain's eyes, though she could feel, sense, that he was trying very hard to get her to do just that. Knowing that his jaw would be set, that he'd be glaring with a cool stare. He could expect her to jump off a cliff for him, but he'd ask a thousand questions before he followed her out of a room. Fine, such was the way things were.

"Come on," she told Cain, and after steeling herself, she looked at him. His eyes bore hard into her, impossibly blue and his gaze asking her too many questions to which he already knew the answer, just as she'd known he would be. She hoped he could see every resolved muscle on her face set firmly in place because she didn't have time to waste convincing him. As certainly as she'd known to hold out her hand for her sister on top of the Tower during the Eclipse, she knew this fact was true.

"We have to go."

* * *

_Author's Note: (Please don't kill me - yes, Az and Jeb's story has gone to a dark place, but its not over) -- If you'd be kind enough to leave a review, I love to hear what readers think. My muse wants to write fast, lots of C/DG and some heartbreakingly hopeful A/J coming up, plus lots of Glitch, Hass, and a new OC. ;)_


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

It was late when Jeb Cain finally arrived at the camp in the South. Pulling his battered and muddy truck to a stop, he stared at his final destination long and hard before he climbed out and slammed the door shut; he hurried toward the large set of connected tents that had been erected near a stand of trees, ignoring the smaller two-man tents scattered around it, and the men who came out of them to see who'd arrived. The armed guard standing at the entrance stood back to allow him passage inside.

The tent created one large room, lit dimly by several lanterns; a heavy metal table was set up in the very center. Surrounding the table were the four Guild Leaders of the O.Z., now generals since the reinsertion of the royal army. Over time in the last year, he'd met all four of the men on one occasion or another while guarding Azkadellia. However, the only one he'd worked under was Andrus, though Peter Andrus was Northern and both of Jeb's parents had been from the South. Andrus, to his credit, tried not to look annoyed to see that the young Cain had arrived late.

"Lieutenant Cain," said General Marsh said in welcome, when he saw the young man had appeared to stand uncertainly just inside the entrance.

"I was sent for," Jeb said, but said no more, as that was the end of the information he'd been given. He looked from one man to the next, until he'd made eye contact with all four. Only Andrus gave him a stiff nod of the head as any indication of previous interaction, which Jeb found surprising, because he knew Andrus wasn't too fond of him.

Andrus made a very formal, sweeping gesture over the map spread across the table. "We require your insight, Lieutenant."

Jeb took a few tentative steps forward, his footfalls quiet and muffled by the dirt floor. "My insight?" he asked, stopping a few feet from the table and the men surrounding it.

"Your experience with the Resistance is invaluable to our cause at the moment, Cain," another of the men, Williamson, spoke up.

Jeb smirked, finding this funny. "I only led the Resistance for a few months."

_It had been after a bloody encounter with the Longcoats, the then-leader, Roberts, slumped over the body of his dead son. Jeb, who had been with the boy when he'd fallen, who was barely more than a boy himself, stood far to the back of the tent, saying nothing, watching nothing but the father bending over the body of his son. _

_Thoughts of his own parents swirled in his head, memories of being told by a derisive Coat that his Resister father was dead. The body of his mother, laying amidst broken sticks and fallen leaves, dead and glassy-eyed. Only his teeth sunk into the end of his tongue had kept the tears at bay._

_Hours later, after night had fallen, the broken Roberts had stumbled away from the cold body, had looked around the tent in which he stood, and his eyes had rested long on the ambush plans scattered on the scrubbed wooden tabletop. _

"_I'm finished," Roberts had croaked, and he walked out of the tent. He held the flap open for Jeb, showing him the men and women that bustled around the camp; activity was subdued, quiet. They'd lost more than one that day; no one seemed to want to make too much noise, in fear of bringing more death down upon them. Roberts gave Jeb the chance to take a good, long look. "They're all yours. Lead them or leave them, but I'm done."_

_The tent flap dropped then, and Roberts was gone. Jeb never saw him again._

_He'd been out of the suit less than a week, and suddenly he was leading the Resistance that had landed him in it in the first place. _

The generals watched silently as Jeb stared hard at the maps spread out across the table. Though they thought he studied them carefully, they could never know that the young Cain didn't see them at all, didn't see the lines and markings, the small red tack that was set in the southeastern most corner of the biggest map, pinning the entire thing to the table. Another, smaller, map rested on top of the first; this one had a large green expanse in the southeast circled in red.

"What do you know about the Black Forest, Lieutenant?" General Marsh asked, after the silence from Jeb Cain had stretched on too long.

"Next to nothing," Jeb said with a shake of his head. "Its uninhabited. I heard once..." And then he trailed off. A smile ghosted across his lips, before being replaced with an apologetic look towards his superiors. "Sorry, gentlemen. Just remembering the stories my father used to tell me. As I said, I know nothing about the Black Forest. I've never been there."

General Andrus spoke next, his voice slow, his Northern accent smoothly forming his words. "We've had reports of Longcoats being seen near the edges of the forest."

Jeb looked up from the map, curious. "Reports from who?"

"Civilians," Williamson said. "People too afraid or too stupid to enter the woods to find out anything more."

Jeb smirked, looking down at the map, where even the images of the forest drawn on paper seemed dark and ominous. "Can you blame them?" he asked the men who watched them. Though a few chuckled, none of them outright answered him. "Have you sent in any scouts?"

"The Queen is requesting actions not be taken at the moment until more details can be gathered," General Bluesire said from his seat, his first words since Jeb had walked into the conference. The people of the East were instinctively wary of strangers to the point of hostility, and Bluesire was no exception. He watched Jeb with a hard glare, suspicion seeping from every worn crease of his small face.

"We meet with the Queen tomorrow to try and persuade her otherwise," Andrus finished explaining.

Jeb frowned, sudden insight dawning as to why the Queen was hesitant to make an order. Azkadellia was afraid to make her first militaristic decision. He was sure it was; she was afraid of what knowledge she'd obtained during the annuals of the Possession. This must have been what she'd been fretting over during the events surrounding her coronation, and why she'd been so closed off when he'd left her early that very morning after the ball.

Thinking of Azkadellia and her strange, distant behavior, however, wasn't going to get this meeting over with any faster, and he knew that. Pushing thoughts of her away, Jeb scanned the map, following the lines that led upwards into the far west, where the hidden barracks of the outlanders had been, buried deep in the ground. Though unmarked, he knew exactly where it had lain. Now gone, like it had never been.

"No activity from the outlanders?" Jeb asked.

Though the other generals took this as an offhand question, Andrus understood the reason for Jeb's interest in the activity to the West. "The borders to the west have been quiet," he said.

Silence fell over the tent then, bearing down on his shoulders as he waited for someone to speak. When no one did, Jeb sighed heavily, and looked up hard at Andrus. "You still haven't quite explained why you had to drag me from the city to speak to me, if you're going to Central tomorrow to speak to the Queen."

"Lieutenant, we're hoping to have you transferred from the Queen's guard detail," General Marsh told him, without so much as blinking. Jeb's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he bit his tongue as he listened to what the generals were ordering of him. "We'd like you to remain in the south for the time being."

"Until when?"

"If Her Majesty approves of our plan," Andrus said, "we'd like you to lead the scouting mission into the forest. We have good reason to believe their base-camp is in deep, near the heart." The general pointed to a place on the map. Jeb squinted to see the words printed, but they were too smudged to make out. "You and your men will infiltrate the camp and discover what information you can."

Jeb shook his head slowly. The last time he'd seen a plan where so many things could go wrong, he was sending his best munitions man to the Tower to lay explosives to blow the generators. When he realized the generals were watching him, he shrugged his shoulders.

"On Her Majesty's orders," was all he could manage to say.

Dismissed a few moments later, Jeb left the generals' tent to find some place to sleep. A day in camp tomorrow, and by suns-down he'd have his orders. If the Queen gave the generals permission to continue against the enemy, or if she told the generals to wait until they had more information... What happened to him the day after tomorrow was completely in Azkadellia's hands, and as much as that fact should reassure him, he had a feeling he wasn't getting back to Central City any time soon.

* * *

***

* * *

Wyatt Cain followed DG patiently a good twenty paces after she left Azkadellia's former chambers, but once she'd rounded the corner and was out of sight of her sister's guard detail, his hand closed about her upper-arm and he pulled her back against him to stop her full-throttle forward progress. She whirled around, eyes blazing and ready for an argument; he looked at her hard, to tell her he was in no mood for a fight and she was better off not to go looking for one.

"You gonna tell me why you're runnin' out of here so fast, Deeg?"

She opened her mouth to speak, only to promptly close it again. She looked away from him as she composed the thoughts that were surely bouncing like scattered marbles in her head. When she did speak, it was with a voice of wavering uncertainty. "Because, its time." She stopped short after those words, and then grinned, an inward smile at herself. "You know, I never thought I'd hear myself say that," she said with a small laugh, "but there you go. That's the reason. Its time to go."

He frowned. "Right this very minute."

"Right this very minute," she said with a firm nod. "You like traveling at night, don't you?"

Sighing, he let go of her; his mind, even at that moment, was trying to gain control over the situation, working over everything that needed to be done before they left. It was near midnight. If she wanted to leave in the dead of night, the most he could do was to make sure things were set to right before they went.

"Go back to your room and get your things," he said, commanded, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise at his tone. "I'll be down in a few minutes for you. _Don't_ come lookin' for me if you get antsy, understand?"

Her lips parted, as if readying to argue with him, but after deep breath, DG seemed to come to the realization he wasn't contesting her decision to leave. Though she didn't know it, a small part of him agreed with her. Better to leave now, than to try and say goodbye in the morning. He watched her walk away from him, towards her suite, and when she was out of his sight, he doubled back the way they'd come.

Glitch sat serenely in a stiff backed chair in Azkadellia's half-emptied former sitting room; the advisor was undisturbed by Cain's sudden arrival, as if he'd been waiting for his friend to come back with further instruction. Glitch's smile was warm, easy, and it settled his nerves slightly, much to his surprise.

"Corporal Hass," Cain said first, wanting to address his issues as quickly as possible.

Glitch nodded in understanding. "I will have him dispatched first thing in the morning."

Cain raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "You read my mind," he admitted.

Glitch's smile dissolved into a smirk, half there, entirely bemused. "Might as well give the poor guy one more night in his own bed before sending him off. You're sure that you're heading to Milltown?"

"Yeah," Cain said with a small, grim nod. "Tell him to ask for Hank or Emily Denslow when he arrives. That's sure to be where he'll find us."

There wasn't much else that needed saying, or required the attention of the royal advisor. Cain lingered a moment longer to give the closed bedroom door a wary glance; Glitch must have caught this gesture, because his next words were comforting. "Things will be fine on the home-front, Cain," Glitch said, "you don't have to worry about things around here. Just go, keep DG out of trouble."

Cain nodded, and shook the advisor's hand when it was offered. The men stood clasping hands a moment longer than necessary, before Glitch made a jerk of his head towards the door to the hallway. "We'll try to keep it quiet as long as possible," Glitch interjected when Cain took a step back and had made a half-turn towards the door. "But someone is going to notice eventually that DG hasn't been seen in a while."

Cain frowned. "Well, hopefully we'll be back by that time."

Glitch grinned wide. "Yes, the sooner you leave, the sooner you get back. And the sooner we can start planning this ridiculously obscene royal wedding I hear is coming up."

Giving Glitch one last, patronizing glare, Cain turned on his heel and walked out of the sitting room. The late hour kept the hallways empty, and he ran into no one as he crossed the level towards DG's suite; it seemed to him, however, that someone had given the order to clear the floor, because it seemed almost ghostly quiet, the sound of his footsteps echoing tellingly on the tiled floor.

The door to DG's quarters was wide open, and as he came closer, he could hear her shuffling around, but when he stepped properly into the room, he couldn't see her. "DG?" he called out softly, and there was a cessation of movement in the bedroom. After a seconds-long pause, the noise picked up again. He stood near the threshold, and waited for her to come out.

It only took her a few more moments, and she came out of the bedroom. She'd changed into a pair of jeans, from where she'd gotten them he could only guess, and a wool coat, buttons undone, the front hanging open. The canvas rucksack that he'd watched her fret over for the last few days was slung over her shoulder, and he was certain she'd hastily gone over the contents at least once more since he'd sent her to gather her things. Her sneakers were clutched in her hands.

"I'm almost ready," she said quietly, apologetically. There was a definite falter in her voice that hadn't been there when she'd told him that they had to leave, not twenty minutes before. She sat down in a chair, letting the bag slide to the floor as she jammed her feet into her shoes. He watched her fumble for a moment with the laces, but soon she was standing and picking up her pack again, watching him expectantly.

From across the room, he could see her shaking. Only the slightest tremble, but enough to be a true presence. Her brave face barely concealed the fact that she looked ready to cry. Somewhere in the space between leaving him in the hallway and his reappearance, she'd lost her nerve to get this done and get it done quick.

"You'd best find somethin' to cover your hair," he told her. "Someone's gonna notice you when we're leavin' the city."

Her eyes seemed to brighten, her corners of her mouth quirking in the slightest hint of a smile. He watched, eyebrows slowly raising in silent question as she screwed her eyes shut. Seconds later there was a _shift_, though any other description past that was beyond his knowledge; all he knew was that he was staring at a blonde DG, her hair shorter and brushing her shoulders, her eyes a darker brown than her sister's. Her features remained the same, but at the same time had received some sort of touch from her magic, for she suddenly seemed bright and sunny, emotions weighted by nothing.

Finding his voice, he tried to stop himself from frowning at her. "Its a nice trick, Darlin'," he admitted. "Put a hat on anyway."

Grumbling, she dropped her back near her feet and walked back into the bedroom, only to reappear a few minutes later with a familiar black cloche pulled down over her hair. The blonde locks still surrounding her face were distracting. She held her hands away from herself, waiting for his approval. Nodding, he reached for her, and without a look back at the room she was leaving behind, DG walked out past him, only pausing long enough to stoop and pick her bag up.

Leaving the palace turned out to be less of a challenge than he had thought it would be. As late as it was, there was very little activity about the palace; taking the stairs, they met no one, and when they broke out of the doors into the bitterly chill night, DG seemed to walk with less trepidation in her steps. The night was unseasonably cold, and a harsh wind swept through the streets.

They waited in the shadows until the two men patrolling the perimeter fence had left the vicinity of the guard shack, leaving only one lone uniformed guard for them to worry about. Tucking DG in underneath his arm, Cain walked straight out through the gates. The man sitting inside the small building stood and nodded his head as the ex-Tin Man passed through the gates. If he knew who Cain was smuggling out of the palace, he neither showed recognition nor moved to stop the pair. And as easily as that, they were free.

Keeping her hugged close against his side, he guided her through the streets of the city, to his apartment; only a quick stop to retrieve his belongings, and he'd take her through the gates of the city. If they met no trouble within the gates, or on the road, they would reach Milltown not long after the second sun came up. The cold night was going to present a problem for DG, he knew, but there wasn't anything to be done except for her to suffer through it. She'd get used to traveling again soon enough.

When the door of the apartment was closed and locked behind them, he left her in the kitchen to move straight into his bedroom. Pulling his things out of the closet, he began to ready himself. Shrugging off his jacket, he tossed it down on the bed and picked up his gun-belt. After tossing it on over his shoulder, he went through the motions of adjusting and buckling it.

The sound of her sneakered footsteps coming across the kitchen joined the sound of the belt buckle. In his peripheral vision, he saw her come to the doorway of his bedroom, to lag listlessly against it. Neither of them had bothered with the lights, but he could feel her eyes on his back as she watched him.

Finishing with the belt, he stooped to tie the leather straps that would secure the holster to his leg. But as he bent, her words cut through the air.

"I just need for you to tell me once that we can do this," she whispered, and he could hardly tell if the words had been meant for him or if she were trying to reassure herself. Letting go of the ties, he stood again to watch her; she'd taken the hat off her head, and was slumping so lost and uncertain against the door-frame. While his mind had been completely absorbed with the thought of who he was going to have to wake up to get their horses from the stable outside the city, DG was still stuck back in the palace. The sight of her stopped him and his preparations; letting the holster and its ties swing, he crossed the room to go to her.

"Deeg," he said slowly, unsure of what to tell her.

"Just once," she muttered, a bit pathetically, "and then I'll be fine, I promise."

Sighing, he reached out a hand to brush his fingers through her blonde hair; it felt silky and smooth beneath his fingers, and he had to remind himself that it was only an illusion, that it wasn't real. It was the oddest thing that had happened to him in a long time, but part of him had to admit, now that he was in DG's company full time, things would probably only get stranger from then on out. His lip seemed to twitch on its own at the thought.

"I don't know what I can tell you," he said slowly, watching her carefully and making sure every word he said hit home. His hand still playing in her hair, he took his time with his answer. "There's no guarantee this is gonna be easy, or even possible. I don't like makin' promises, but what I do know is that I'm gonna be doin' my damndest to keep you safe while you're tryin' to figure it all out."

She smiled gratefully up at him. Seeing her settle, feeling her relax under his fingertips, he moved back to the bed, left her in the doorway so he could finish readying to go. He'd bent again and was tying the straps of the holster to his thigh when she whispered meekly, "Thank you."

Finished tightening the knot, he straightened his spine. "You don't have to thank me, DG." That much was true, there was no reason for it. But, whether she knew it or not, when all of this was over and they were safe, she was sure as hell going to marry him. Then he'd focus on getting her out of the city for good. If this goose chase was what they had to do to get to that point, then this was the road they would travel.

If she had a response for him, she kept it to herself, and watched in silence as he sheathed his revolver and put his duster back on. His bag was already packed and waiting; he picked it up by the shoulder strap and walked out of the bedroom. He took DG's bag into his hand and escorted her out of the apartment.

They left the city on foot. With their collars turned up against the wind, together they walked along the length of the city wall, passed through the gate, before crossing the causeway that spanned the lake; the breeze that came up off the water knocked the air out of their lungs as they left the shelter of the city gates. His eyes went upwards as their feet carried them farther from the city; the sky was clear, the moons were rising higher as the minutes passed; they'd have more than enough light to travel by, though he wasn't sure how well the light would permeate the forest once they'd entered the safety of its cover.

Almost two hours after she'd burst out of Azkadellia's room to tell him it was time to leave, Cain was watching his princess mount her horse, as he tossed a few coins to a bleary-eyed stable-hand. Pulling up onto his own mare's back, he saw DG standing in her saddle, her eyes focused on something far away. Turning his head, he saw Central City silhouetted against the dark sky, glowing faintly in the distance; he wondered if she was only taking a long last glance, her attention caught by the reflection of the lights on the water, or if she were focused on something more intimate. It wasn't hard to make out the Central palace, the tallest beacon of the city; for the second time that night, he considered where her mind might still be caught.

"Gonna miss it?" he asked her, as he reined his horse into the direction he wanted. He was giving the animal an affectionate pat on the neck when DG finally spoke, as he feigned interest in something else.

"Not really," she lied, as easily as she breathed. He considered her for a moment, as she dragged her eyes away from the city and brought them to his. "Can we go?"

Frowning at her, he nudged his horse with his heels and rode east, glad for how quickly DG followed.

After two hours, he was keeping an eye out for a place to break off the road and rest. Though their pace wasn't fast, DG hadn't spoken a single word, and kept sneaking glances at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. Annoyed, he signaled for her to stop at the first branch in the road they met.

"What's the matter?" he asked her, the second he was off his horse. She stayed mounted, and yet somehow seemed to shrink away from him when he approached. Wyatt sighed, before reaching up to grab her around the waist. She didn't fight him, but he wasn't completely sure it was an accident when her feet landed on top of his.

He growled at her when she looked up at him sheepishly. "Sorry," she said, and he could hear her trying to work up a cheery voice to go with the smile she was able to flash so easily. "What's up, Tin Man? Why are we stopping?"

Without answering, he walked the horses a little farther into the trees before tethering them loosely to a tree. He watched his own hands as they made the knot, the unadorned fingers working quickly. Behind him, he could hear her walking slowly towards him, but he whirled around fast when he heard her stumble.

"Sorry," she muttered again. She'd managed to land herself on her hands and knees. "I tripped on a loose brick."

Despite the restraint he wanted, his sigh was aggravated as he stepped forward to help her to her feet, then stood back as she brushed off her clothes. When she straightened, he could tell she was a few straws short of breaking, that much was clearly evident on her face, glamor or not.

"So why did we stop?" she asked again.

Cain sighed, and looked around. The trees on either side of the narrow bit of road they were on were thick, and they stood somewhere in the span of transition where the paved bricks gave way to hard-packed dirt. It seemed to him as if some bricks were missing, and he could spot the one she'd tripped on, jutting up at an angle.

"I figured," he said slowly, "now'd be a good time for you to start talkin'."

From under the brim of her black hat, she glared up at him. "What if I don't want to start talking, Tin Man?"

"Then its gonna be a real quiet trip, Princess," he said pointedly, meaning it, very seriously, as a threat.

She considered him for a moment, and he knew his words had struck a chord. "Azkadellia," she said slowly, and though he thought she only meant to pause, he soon realized she had no intention of speaking past her sister's name.

He frowned. Glitch had told him about the Queen's loss, as quiet as a conspirator while they'd waited for DG, whispering low that no one in the court knew that Azkadellia had taken a lover. Cain, however, had thought that if one person knew who was taking extra pleasures with the Queen, it was his son – perhaps it was lucky the kid had been called out of the city by General Andrus, before the entire panel of Azkadellia's advisors was after him for the volatile information.

Clearing his throat, as if to prepare her for his intention to speak, he said "I know about your sister. And I know her... trouble tonight was the reason we're hightailin' it out of the city. You don't have to –"

Her eyes widened and he had no warning to brace for her outburst. She threw her arms up into the air and began to shout, her voice carrying loud and far. "I had to _leave_ her, Cain! Again! She has no one, she's going to need me, but oh, no, its time to exit stage right instead."

"It could've waited 'til morning, DG," he told her calmly.

"No," she said, and her voice was firm, but the threat of tears lingered somewhere near the back of her throat, making her sound vulnerable, and he felt his heart give a little. "I had a hard enough time tearing myself away from her tonight. I wanted to climb into the bed with her. If I'd waited until morning, leaving would've killed me."

"So you're gonna give yourself hell over it instead?" he asked, and weakly, she shrugged her shoulders. "How long's that gonna last, Deeg?"

She looked offended. "Not long," she said, and she frowned at the skeptical look he gave her.

"Its already been too long," he said, nodding towards the horses that were tethered a little further down the road. "Just let it go and don't worry about Azkadellia. She'll be fine until you get back."

"She has no one," DG whispered quietly. "Just me, and I –"

"Don't start," he said, glaring down hard at her and taking her by both arms. "Your sister is goin' through a rough time right now, but she's obviously got _somebody, _otherwise..." he said, but trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence. He sighed. "Let it be."

She was silent, and he looked down at her face. She was staring up at him, with a calculating expression that told him she was about to say something mouthy. Sure enough... "You know, Cain," she said, "they've got a saying on the Other Side. It goes, 'the pot calling the kettle black'."

He raised an eyebrow in challenge, not about to take her bait. "You really wanna start that discussion right now?"

"Not really, but I thought I'd toss that in there for good measure." She was smiling again, and it seemed that she'd at least listened to his words. Satisfied with that for now, he kissed her quickly on the lips, but found himself leaning down again for another, and then another. Her arms were sneaking about his shoulders, pulling herself up on tiptoe to get closer to him, and his arms were wrapping around her waist to mold into the curve of her back. The kiss was unrestrained and the clutch messy, such seemed to be her sudden desire to climb right inside of him.

Regretfully, after a few moments of quiet, hot kisses, he forced himself to disentangle her arms from around his neck, to hold her a safe distance away. "Soon," he mumbled against her temple, nudging her hat upwards with his nose to get at her skin. The sleekness of her hair felt strange under his lips, not the naturally curly tangle he was used to pressing his face into.

Minutes later, they were mounting their horses again and rejoining the main road to Milltown. At dawn they stopped for a few moments again, as the stone markers on the side of the road telling them how many spans they'd traveled. Sheltered in the trees, the wind didn't bother them much, but DG's cheeks were pink and her fingers numb by the time the suns started to come up. As they neared their location, his mind seemed set on a hot mug of coffee; the effects of the full day prior and the long night on the road were beginning to dull his senses.

It was near full-light outside when the roofs of Milltown finally came into view, and Cain suppressed a smile when DG urged her horse on a little faster, racing towards her only connection to a life lived and over, now only a mere memory.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who is taking the time to review - you know I love them! This story is going to be as long as "Of Light", by the looks of it. Love it? I thought you might. Reviews feed my muse, lets keep her chubby on love, people! _


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Azkadellia awoke long before dawn. The most intense of the pain had died away during the hours she'd slept, but a dull ache had replaced it that only stood to remind her of what she'd lost. She wanted to curl into herself, to turn her head into the pillow and return to the black oblivion of sleep. The problem, however, seemed to be that she wasn't where she was supposed to be. Sighing, and with great difficulty, she forced her feet out of the bed, hoping that the rest of her body would follow.

Once on her feet, she pulled on her clothes from the evening before; her dress was unstained, she'd already taken to the bed once the bleeding had started... there had been so much blood, for such a small loss. No never, not small. She picked her shoes up off the floor and left the bedroom, sneaking around like child out in the middle of the night. The Queen of the O.Z., slinking about her own palace, afraid to be seen by those supposedly beneath her.

No one was beneath her on this night. She had never, ever felt so low. Almost buried... like they'd buried DG...

_...Little Princess, in the ground... marble coffin, deep, deep down... _

_My sister is gone; don't cry for her, you stupid, soft girl, you'll be Queen, if we only had the Emerald..._

As she crossed the dark sitting room, a snore caused her to cry out, jerking her hard out of her reverie. Her cry caused the sleeper to wake, and a silhouetted, lanky frame leapt up from one of the armchairs near the empty fireplace. "Jeb?" she asked the darkness, though the minute the name slipped past her lips, she knew it couldn't be; he was gone, beckoned by the generals. Distracted by the coronation, by thoughts of a child now gone, she'd released him... now she wasn't surprised to find herself wanting him.

_Baby prince, sweet boy, gone, gone..._

"Your Majesty," said a familiar voice; it took a moment for the face to swim into her mind, to match the quiet, low voice she heard. _Ambrose... _

"Master Ambrose," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She could do this. If she couldn't face her advisor, trusted family friend, then how did she expect to get through the coming day... and the next, and the next?

"Professor Lyman has requested to see you tomorrow, Majesty," Ambrose said formally, but worry was all too evident behind his words. "Would you like me to escort you upstairs?"

Azkadellia shook her head. "No thank you," she said, and left the room, ran from him. Too many memories threatened, too many buried troubles, too many secrets to remain kept. When she broke into the hallway, she surprised the two men guarding the door; they followed her silently, and after a few minutes, she barely noticed their presence. Gods, how she didn't want to return to the Queen's residence, didn't want this to be the first night she spent there. But there was nowhere else for her, nowhere else she'd be safe and could be truly alone.

When she crossed the mirrored hall, she kept her eyes trained to the floor; when she reached her quarters, the double doors opened for her as if servants had been standing behind, waiting for her; her magic took care of her, her own subconscious effort to take care of herself. The doors slammed shut on the guards, and the curtains flew shut with great force. Azkadellia fell onto the giant bed, curled up on top of the covers, and closed her eyes.

When she awoke, it was full light, but the curtains kept the room very dim. Her eyelids were heavy, and the ache in her empty womb had yet to subside. She lay in her bed until she realized she heard no activity outside her room, no sounds of bustling or of quiet, idle chatter. Someone that wasn't her had given an order to keep clear of her chambers, and she didn't have to guess who it was. Deciding not to worry about it for the time being, she laid her head back down on the mattress and stared at the light seeping into the room around the edge of the window, reminding her too much of the afternoon of the Eclipse, as the twin suns hid behind the moon.

She was Queen. She was expected to go to no one, so she waited for someone to come to her.

Preparations for the coronation had distracted her. She hadn't missed her period, only realized one day that it had been absent for too long. As the days went by, bringing her coronation closer and closer, she'd only tried to deny it, as her body began to give her other signs. She'd passed it all off as stress, and with vacant nods, all had accepted.

No one ever expected; the discretion of the heiress and her lover was to be applauded. No one would _ever_ suspect.

Even Jeb... She didn't have to tell him, but she knew she would. What would happen past that, she wasn't sure. It had to stop, but she didn't want it to. For the past annual, he'd become important to her, their time together had become the pillar to which she chained herself to keep from chasing too much, from being swept away by her own guilt and regret. No one would tell her honestly that she was overreacting, no one else would blatantly tell her to pull it together and get over herself. Only him.

After too much time had passed, she crawled off of the bed and changed into a fresh blouse and skirt. She braided her hair and faced the mirror. But for the paleness of her face, the deep circles beneath her eyes, she could pass as her dark, dour self. No need to fake cheeriness, as she rarely smiled. Only the need to exist until the end of the day, when she could burrow into her bed for a few hours, the bed that until the day before had been her mother and father's, and hide herself in the depths of sleep.

Breakfast was waiting for her outside the bedroom, but it had long since grown cold. With a sigh, she touched the top of the teapot; she used her magic to warm the tea, but the tingle of the flow of Light was just too much to feel, too much like breathing and living. She waited until the ceramic began to burn her finger, and then picked up the pot and poured herself a cup of tea.

It had just begun to cool and she was setting it to her lips when the door burst open. The thought of smiling crossed her mind, though it never played out on her face; she stared as if dead, waiting for her sister, glad for DG's company, but no... again, Ambrose came into the room, and promptly shut the double doors behind him.

"What is it, Ambrose?" she asked quickly, setting down her cup and straightening her skirt as she stood. Apparently she'd been given long enough, it was time to get the day started. But, when she looked up to see the advisor watching her, he waved her back into her seat, and sit she did, albeit a little uneasily. "What is it?" she asked him again.

"Don't you worry about a thing," he told her kindly. "I've had most of your morning engagements cleared or rescheduled. There are a few things, however, that I wasn't able to move around," he said, almost regretfully.

Azkadellia frowned at her mother's advisor – no, she reminded herself, he'd retained his position as the Queen's advisor, so in truth he was hers – before she sighed again. "Unless DG will be attending in my place, Ambrose, I don't see how I can possibly put all of it aside today."

Ambrose's face took on a panicked look for the briefest second, before shifting impassively as he worked his way into the next matter of business, but that flicker of speechlessness wasn't hard for her to see. "Um, no, the princess will not be going in your place. But, one thing that must be taken care of this afternoon is the meeting with the generals, Ma'am, they –"

She took a deep breath before shaking her head, noticing all too well the change in the course of the conversation. "No, I will not meet with the generals today."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, General Andrus has insisted that this matter must be dealt with as soon as possible," Ambrose said, though there was no firmness in his voice to back up his words.

Azkadellia closed her eyes, bringing a hand to her temple. A headache was beginning, a shooting pain in her temple. "I'll meet with Andrus if I must, Ambrose, but _only _Andrus. I won't sit at a table listening to those old men bicker with each other over tactics."

There was silence then, and she revelled in it. _A meeting with Andrus... the generals requested Jeb... meet with the general and get him back here. Gods, I want –_

Ambrose's uncertain voice cut into her thoughts. "There is one more thing, Majesty."

Azkadellia frowned. Of course there was one more thing, there was _always_ one more thing. "Please make it quick, Ambrose. If you've cleared my schedule, I want to go see my sister."

There was a pause then, so crammed full of the obvious that her head shot up so she could watch him, as he said with words what his pause had already told her. "Um, DG and Captain Cain left the palace last night around midnight." He gave her a moment to let the information sink in, before perking up with what he thought was surely good news. "She left you a message."

Az inhaled a shaky breath, clenching her jaw to fight the tears. "What is it?" she asked in a faltering voice.

"She asked me to tell you _'Goodbye'_ and that she'd send news soon."

"And the Captain?" After the last annual, the title felt heavy and formal on her tongue, but Gods, she couldn't say his name right now, couldn't say...

Ambrose shrugged his shoulders honestly. "I suppose we could expect Cain's first report by tonight, or by tomorrow morning."

He watched intently as Azkadellia gave a resigned sigh. "All right, then," she said, straightening her shoulders and turning to him with a look of absolute concentration. "What time must I meet with Andrus?"

* * *

***

* * *

Milltown showed signs of restoration, much to DG's delight. Most of the windows in the shops and residences had been replaced, and most buildings had seen a coat of fresh paint. The road was free of weeds, planters and window-boxes overflowed with flowers, some she recognized and others she didn't. She and Cain had both dismounted, and were walking their horses up the main street of town towards the inn; she couldn't stop the strange swell in her heart, the misplaced sense of home-town pride.

"We'll get a room at the inn," Cain had told her, when they'd gotten off their horses at the juncture that led to Milltown. "We can get cleaned up before we go searchin' for your nurturers. That sound okay?"

She nodded; it sounded fine.

As they entered the town proper, she caught sight of a shadow lingering in a window, the flutter of curtains closing. It was an odd sensation, being watched as if a danger; they were not welcome, strangers seldom were, but there was no open hostility, and they were not stopped by anyone. At the inn, Cain tethered their horses to the post outside the door before they mounted the porch together and he opened the door for her.

Above their heads, a bell sounded; the large front room consisted of a long counter, an old brick fireplace, and several mismatched and worn, but comfortable looking chairs, accompanied by equally worn looking wooden end tables. Twin staircases on either side of the room led up to a balcony that overlooked the 'lobby'. Several hallways branched off, leading to the rented rooms.

At the sound of the bell, an older man came out from a room set behind the counter. He watched them warily, though did not hesitate to reach under the counter and pull out his registry. "Name's MacGruder," he said by way of introducing himself. "Interested in a room, folks?"

Cain nodded his head. "One night, might need a second."

"Five plat a night, upfront."

DG wandered past Cain as the transaction took place, setting her bag on the floor to walk over to the fireplace, behind which the wall was covered in old black and white pictures in broken frames, all of Milltown and its residents during the bygone days. Studying the picturesque locations, the happily smiling figures, it wasn't hard to see why Milltown had once been considered _the Jewel of the O.Z. _

Cain's voice cut into her thoughts. "Lets go, Kiddo," he said, pointedly not calling her by any name.

She followed after Cain, who in turn followed MacGruder as he led the way upstairs. A dark, dusty hallway at the top of the stairs led to a heavy door; after it was opened, they were ushered into a fair-sized room. Most of the floor space taken up by a large bed. A dresser and a table-and-chair set were pushed up against the far wall near the single window; a second door led, presumably, to the bathroom.

"Call me if you be needing anything," the innkeeper said, before he left them alone, shutting the door quietly behind him.

DG dropped herself onto the bed; it was so high that her feet dangled a few inches above the floor. She flopped backwards, staring up at the ceiling, glad to be laying down, to have something soft beneath her, to be able to let her guard down and relax. Her eyes slid closed, and she listened to Cain move about the room, heard him open the bathroom door to check the small room out.

"I don't think anyone is waiting to ambush us, Cain," she said with a grin, not opening her eyes. She considered asking him if the bathroom had a shower in it, but thought better of it as she heard him settle himself into one of the plain wooden chairs that flanked the small dining table. Instead, she asked, "What time do you think it is?" as she rolled over onto her stomach so she could open her eyes and look at him. He looked like he was trying to get comfortable, as close to slumping as she was sure the Tin Man could get, and she could see exhaustion etched into every corner of his face.

"Its probably around seven," he told her after a moment, after he'd run a big hand over his face. He lifted the hat off his head and dropped it onto the table. "You wanna take that glamor off so I can see you properly?"

"Oh, sorry," she said, and as she concentrated to let the magic slip, she felt the curious sensation of the shift, felt her hair grow and curl down her back. Almost instantaneously, her thick bangs were falling into her eyes, and she was pushing air upwards through her lips to try and blow them away. As he watched her, Cain's lips curved upwards into an amused smile, wide and beautiful and so rare that it caused her entire body to skip a beat with the joy of seeing it.

As if trying to hide the fact that he were pleased to see her, he mumbled a gruff, "Better," and crossed his arms over his chest. He wiped the smile off his face, and went back to looking so completely unimpressed with the world that the smile might never have happened at all – she reminded herself to never play cards with Wyatt Cain.

A few comfortable moments passed as they watched each other, her openly honest blue eyes holding fast his calm, vigilant ones. She rested her chin on top of her folded hands on the bedspread, and gave a deeply relaxed sigh.

"Why don't you crawl into bed, and get some sleep?" he suggested. "I'm gonna have to get us some directions to your parents place, and see about gettin' us some breakfast."

"How's about you come to bed and have _me_ for breakfast?" she shot back, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

Cain snorted. "DG, as temptin' as that offer is, I figure I have about five minutes of questions for the landlord downstairs and then I'm gonna be crawlin' right into that bed beside you. We can get a good couple hours of shut-eye before a decent time to go callin' comes around."

Not at all put off, she rolled over again and sat up. Shoving herself to the edge of the bed, she kicked her shoes off, listening to the _thud_ as they hit, before standing on the cold floor in her stockinged feet. She went through the motions of undressing; hung her coat in the closet, shimmied out of her pants, pulled her shirt over her head. Laying her clothes on top of the quilt near the foot of the bed, she buried herself deep into the middle of the bed dressed only in socks and her underwear, and as she rested her head on the pillow – and though she'd never tell him – she had to admit that maybe he'd had the right idea about laying down.

When she finally peeked over the top of the covers at him, he was still sitting in the dining chair, legs stretched out in front of him, and a smug smile on his face. He got up slowly when he saw that she'd settled, and he placed his hat back on his head, running a finger along the brim to tug it into the proper place. She watched him hesitate over her for a moment, could almost see and hear the workings of his mind as he debated; she hid a delighted grin as he leaned over and pressed a kiss into her tangled hair, closed her eyes as he inhaled deep before pulling away.

"I'll be back soon, Darlin'," he told her, and without saying anything more, left the room, locking the door behind him.

As DG snuggled herself down into the bed, Wyatt's boots echoed off the narrow hallway. Confident DG wouldn't be bothered, he kept his holster buttoned and concealed beneath his coat; no need to raise undue suspicion by acting like he was expecting an attack. Honestly, he had no reason to expect anything. Though he knew the forecast wouldn't keep, it was looking to him, so far, that this trip would be a quiet one.

The landlord, MacGruder, was sitting behind the counter, reading an outdated copy of the _Central Gazette_, when Cain cleared the stairs; he looked up curiously as his new guest crossed the room, and came to a stop to lean casually against the counter.

"The missus getting settled in all right?" MacGruder inquired.

Cain nodded stiffly. "Well enough. She'll be hungry when she wakes up; there a restaurant in town?"

MacGruder looked thoughtful for a moment, as if it were a loaded question. "Lizzy might have the Rolling Road open by lunchtime, but that depends on the kind of day she's having. My wife serves supper back in the dining room every night at five." He jerked his thumb back towards the open door that led elsewhere into the building. Domestic sounds could be heard coming from within.

"Thank you, that would be much appreciated," Cain said. "I've got business with Hank Denslow this afternoon; any clue where I might find him come afternoon?"

Once again, the landlord took time to form his answer. "Denslows have a little house down on Frontier Street. It'll be easy enough to find." Cain nodded; that was truthful enough. The entire town consisted of only four streets. MacGruder continued to watch Cain in a disinterested sort of way, and as he had no more questions, Cain tipped his hat and walked out of the inn. A quick walk about town to find a place to house his horses for the evening, and then he'd be back, to DG and the bed she warmed for him.

* * *

***

* * *

_She crested a rolling hill; she didn't know how long she'd been following this road, only that it had been quite a while since she'd left... wherever she'd left, and she was getting hungry. The bricks were broken, uneven, with some even missing; on either side of the road, the yellow grass was waist high, messy and unattended. _

_Someone had set her out on this path. _Someone _had told her to follow this road, but why couldn't she remember? It was someone important... wasn't it?_

_The waving grass fields soon became crosscut with wooden fences, and she found herself coming upon a cornfield, stalks high and heads heavy._

_Soon, her feet carried her to a four-way intersection in the brick-paved road. Frowning, she looked both right, then left. Straight ahead, back the way she'd come; "Follow the yellow brick road," she muttered to herself, the only thing she knew, the mantra she repeated. "Follow the yellow..." Confused as to which way to go, she looked around desperately. She hadn't been prepared to make a decision._

"_Now which way do I go?" she asked herself, as if her own mind would answer back with the solution. She looked around again; though it was still light and warm, she knew, darkness was coming, and she was far from safety._

"_Pardon me," said a friendly voice, "but that way is a very nice way."_

_Looking around again, this time searching for the source of the voice, she saw no one but a raggedy scarecrow hung up on a post. Its flimsy arm pointed back in the direction she'd come. Gazing through the messy, overgrown rows of stalks, she saw no one else._

"_Who said that?" she called out, bending down to look into the field, watching for movement. When she saw none, she straightened, and her eyes fell onto the scarecrow. She laughed nervously at herself. "Don't be silly," she chastised herself. "Scarecrows don't talk." She turned around, eyeing the four-way intersection again. Left, right, straight, back._

"_Its pleasant down that way, too," said the same cheerful voice._

_Her head snapped around quickly, and she turned in a full circle, feeling fear prickle up her spine like cold, cold fingers. Scanning her surroundings, she saw the most curious thing... "That's funny," she said as she swallowed hard. The scarecrow's straw-filled appendages had reversed – now it pointed very clearly in the opposite direction._

_There was a resigned sigh, as the scarecrow quite animatedly crossed its arms in front of it, so as to point left with its right arm, and right with its left. "Of course," it – no, he – said, with an even deeper sigh to accompany the first, "people do go both ways."_

_She shook her head, as if trying to shake out the image of a moving, talking scarecrow, but when she righted herself and opened her eyes, he was still smiling down at her as if an old friend had just come skipping up the road. "Why, you _did_ say something, didn't you?" she asked him._

_The grin he gave her was a wide stretching of his canvas-sack face. He shook his head as if to answer no, and then nodded to counteract himself. She grown accustomed to so many strange things – how or why, she couldn't exactly say – but this completely threw her. _

_She frowned. She didn't have time to play games – why, she didn't know, she just _knew_ – and so she crossed her arms determinedly over her chest. "So which way do I go, then?" she asked, getting straight down to business. Somewhere to go, something to do, something... _

_The scarecrow shrugged. "Don't know myself. I haven't got a brain, only straw," he said, and lifted up his hat, to show her where straw poked out, bright and yellow, like the bricks beneath her feet might once have been. "But if I were a man, and if I only had a brain, I might tell you to stay out of the Southeast."_

_Raising her eyebrows in question, she cocked her head. "What's in the Southeast?"_

"_Don't know myself. I haven't got a brain, only straw," he repeated firmly._

He's glitching,_ she thought, and it made her giggle. The scarecrow's head fell to the side as he looked at her inquiringly. _

"_Stay out of the forest after dark, DG," the scarecrow told her. He went limp on his peg and moved no more. _

Her eyes opened slowly to a dim room. Her first thought was that she was incredibly warm; when she tried to shift, her body hit something heavy and solid. Squirming a bit, she blinked a few times as she slipped away from the hold of her dream. Scarecrow... scarecrow...

A soft exhale ruffled through her hair. Cain was curled against her back, his body bending as hers bent, knees tucked up together, feet tangled; he'd removed his shirt, but had retained his trousers, and his bare chest pressed against her back was so, so warm. His arm was thrown over her waist, and she held his hand hugged against her chest. Amazing that she hadn't woken when he'd crawled into the bed, more amazing that he was still sleeping for all her wiggling.

Raising her head slightly, she looked around the room. A clock on the bedside table, one she hadn't seen before, read a quarter to eleven. Cain had pulled the curtain shut, and the room was filled with dull, hazy orange light. Letting her head fall back to the pillow, she watched the outline of the window beneath the heavy curtain, thinking about her dream, her sister, her nurturers, the man who held her, and where she might find herself come the next morning.

"_...If I only had a brain, I might tell you to stay out of the Southeast."_

Warm lips brushed her shoulder. "You awake, DG?" His voice was rough and dry with sleep. He pulled his hand from her grasp, so he could run it the length of her bare arm, sliding his hand under the blankets to run from her elbow to her wrist; his lips touched her shoulder again, lingering longer, pressing harder. A shudder of apprehension ran through her; still wound so, so tight... she worried about what she still might be holding back, how hard she might fall if she let go of it all. She didn't want to stiffen, she wanted to melt into him...

Feeling her tense under his hands, Wyatt's touches lightened, but didn't stop. He splayed his fingers flat over her stomach, held his palm still and heavy on her abdomen for a moment, before running his hand upwards, caressing between her breasts, ghosting over her bra, up and up until his strong fingers were on her jaw and he was turning her head towards his. His blue eyes searched hers, flicking back and forth quickly, reading what only he could see; she felt tears suddenly, too fast to swallow them away, her eyes filling before she knew quite what had overcome her.

"Deeg," he said softly.

DG smiled nervously. "I'm still getting used to this," she muttered, and looked away from him, but a gentle tug on her chin and she was seeking out his eyes again, how could she not, when there were answers there, and safety. Honesty. Love. "I just need time to adjust to being away from Central." She rolled onto her back, staring up at him as he rested easily above her, propped on an elbow. "I can't even remember the last time I lounged in bed." She tried on another smile, and it came a little easier; he returned in, smooth and smouldering. "I'm not late for anything, no one is tapping their foot at the door. No one is telling me I need to move faster or speak softer or do better."

When she blinked, two fat tears slid down her cheeks, and she wiped at them hastily, embarrassed. But Wyatt only watched her intently, and when she found she couldn't speak without more tears, he cupped her face in his hand and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Its okay, Darlin'," he said, his voice deep and reassuring, "it'll get easier before you know it. And as for your life in the city, just... put it down, walk away from it. It'll keep until you get back."

Though she groaned, it was playful. "Lets not talk about going _back_, okay?"

"That's fine by me," he told her. "I won't lie; I'm gonna like havin' you with me."

The smile she gave him was bright and winning. "There doesn't seem to be much _having_ going on at the moment," she whispered teasingly, as she shifted her hips closer to him, rubbing against his groin in the process. He gave a small growl from the very back of his throat, and his hand shot out to grip her hip above the waistband of her underwear, the pads of his fingers pressing in and squeezing her skin.

"None of that," he said, with a hint of strain in his voice that caused her to look up at him with curious eyes. His jaw was set firmly, and she was sure that if she listened hard enough, she might hear the scrape of his teeth. Smiling, she sat up and placed a kiss on that tightened jaw, before scooting out of the bed and reaching for her clothes.

"What time do you think Hass will arrive?" she asked him as she dragged her shirt on over her head, showing him that she was more than willing to move onto the business at hand. The bed would be waiting for them when they returned, and an entire night would stretch out before them... even if they did nothing but sleep, she would be more than happy to dream curled up against his chest, though, truth be told, she'd rather not dream at all.

"Sometime this afternoon, but it all depends on how early he got the message to ride out," Cain told her as he extracted himself from the bed. He'd hung his shirt on the bedpost, and pulled it on, keeping his eyes directed on her as he buttoned it closed.

DG tugged on her pants, before slipping herself back into her disguise, the shorter blonde hair, the cheery smile and brown eyes. Out of habit, she went into the bathroom to check her appearance in the mirror, but all she saw was herself. Rolling her eyes at her own stupidity, she turned away – and if a ripple coursed throughout her reflection as she turned, she couldn't be sure. Whirling her head around to look at the mirror again, she saw only her own face, not one so similarly like it as she'd thought, for that briefest moment.

_I don't want to worry about that right now,_ she thought, as she exited the bathroom. "How do I look?" she asked Cain, who was getting into his duster; looking up as he straightened the collar, he frowned at her.

"Looks fine enough," he said gruffly, and she tried not to be offended.

_Maybe I should just go back to wearing my hat,_ she thought with a small smile, as Cain placed his own on top of his head, and opened the door for her.

It was time to visit her foster parents, and to see if any residents of Milltown knew any information that might give her a direction to turn in.

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_Author's Note: I've had a rough week, sorry this was so long in coming. Story is gonna start moving now, just trying to figure out who gets to reveal the next step... either way. Hopefully you liked it. Leave me a review if you did, I'd love to have some good news. (Love, Ris)  
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	10. Chapter Ten

_Author's Note: So ooh, I got my _**CAST PAGE **_done for this story, but since fanfictiondotnet doesn't like links in the story files, you'll find the link on my profile page - it will direct you to either Livejournal or my Blog. I'll notify in A/N's when it gets updated with new characters (which, ooh, more are coming!) Longest chapter yet, enjoy!  
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**Chapter Ten**

As soon as they approached the letterbox reading _Denslow_, simple and clean on its wooden post, DG knew this was going to be harder than anticipated. Cain was hanging back, allowing her to set their pace, which came to a dead stop at the gate. A little two-story house, fence, yard; the grass was the pale, parched green of late summer. She had a slight, panicked urge to turn and run back, but she knew if she did that, there'd be no telling where or when she'd _stop_ running. Even if she managed to hit Kansas, she'd probably keep on going.

Giving her a small push in the right direction, Cain leaned forward to swing open the gate. As he did so, his arm brushed hers, and he caught her eyes; smoky blue reassured her, though with his mouth, his expression, he said nothing.

They were halfway up the walkway when the front door opened and Emily appeared, wiping her hands on a towel. Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face, and she wore an apron over her dress. "DG!" she exclaimed at the sight of the young woman coming up her front walk; DG smiled wide, acutely missing the embrace that wouldn't happen.

"Hi, Em," DG said, and her feet carried her quicker up the dirt path. The steps leading to the porch creaked underneath of her as she skipped up one, two, three. She felt her smile grow tentative as she levelled herself with Emily. She tried her very best to look charming. "Surprise?"

To her great relief, Emily looked pleased to see her. "It certainly is! Though more so that you don't have a bunch of guards in tow." Here, she turned her head to Cain.

"It's a long story," DG said offhandedly, sure to her very core this wasn't a subject she wanted to be broaching at all during her visit.

Emily nodded understandingly. "Well then, its probably one best told inside the house." She opened the door and ushered her guests through. "You changed your hair, DG," she said thoughtfully, as the young woman passed by her into the house. DG's hand automatically went into her hair, felt her own heavy locks, and knew that what she felt and what the unit saw were two completely different things.

"Yeah," she said offhandedly, patting the top of her head once more; the glint of silver and sapphire on her ring caught Emily's attention as DG brought her hand down, but the older woman only smiled a little to herself, shooting a knowing glance at DG, before motioning for the two to follow her.

DG shot a glance back at Cain before heading towards the back of the house; though his lips curled upwards encouragingly, he said nothing, and his eyes were hard to read. She felt a pang of gratitude to him, for his willingness to follow her, even to something so mundane as this. Mouthing a silent '_Thank you_' to him, she turned and walked in the direction Emily had gone.

She moved a little easier once she realized that neither Hank nor Emily were put out in the slightest by her intrusion. Em brought the pair into the kitchen, where she sat them down at the table and poured them each a cup of strong, hot coffee. Before very many minutes had passed, she'd also dished up a plate of bread and had told Cain quite sternly to please, very kindly remove his hat while he sat at her table. When Emily's back was turned, DG shot him an apologetic grin.

"I'm sorry," she offered.

Cain shook his head, completely undisturbed as he did as he was bid, placing his hat on the table beside his cup of coffee. "I didn't expect much less from the woman that raised a firecracker like you." He smiled at her admiringly, but the flick of his eyebrows as he did spoke of something more, deeper and more affectionate. Her heart swelled; she said nothing, only looked away as a blush flooded her cheeks.

"Where's Hank?" DG asked, almost having to force down the urge to call him 'Pop'.

Emily finally sat down at the table. "He's out back. The old incubator gave out this morning, he's trying to get it working properly again."

DG nodded slowly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Just as the words were coming out of her mouth, the back door opened and Hank walked in, rubbing his hands on an old towel, grinning. "Now I know that voice. Did you come to check up on us, DG? Don't you think I can manage one thing on my own, girl?"

In another life, she might have stood up and welcomed him with a hug, but those days had long passed. The unit who stood in the doorway – how fast she'd accepted that fact, when she'd been told that she'd been raised by machines, before she'd known that things would change, that it would never be the same – remembered her clearly, recollected perhaps every single day of the fifteen years he spent as her father-figure. However, there was no attachment, no emotional response to her. Both Hank and Emily thought her friend, were fond of her, but after all memory of Azkadellia had been wiped from their memory drives, they had not been reprogrammed to feel the parental bond for the girl that now sat at their table. There had been no need for it.

She should be happy they remembered her at all, that the coercion virus had not affected their memories... but it was hard for one lonely young woman to put away the memory of the innocent little girl running through the grassy field to where her father worked in the hot late afternoon sun.

DG knew Cain watched her, though only out of the corner of his eye. She shoved it all down, the threatening wave of emotion that could so easily overcome her. Thankfully, neither Hank nor Emily noticed that she was near-drowning in herself at their kitchen table... only Wyatt.

"You acting as her bodyguard today, Mr. Cain?" Hank asked, as he crossed the room to the sink, where he washed his hands using liquid soap and a palm-full of sugar to take off the grease. "Or," he said before Wyatt even had a chance to reply, "are we gonna have fifty of the Royal Guard show up at the front door looking for her?"

"Oh dear," Emily said automatically, "that would fit DG. Do you know, Mr. Cain, that I've never seen in all my annuals another child get into as much trouble as this one did." She pointed a finger squarely at DG.

DG's faint blush raged once again. "I wasn't in _that_ much trouble."

Hank snorted. "Understatement if I've ever heard one in my life."

And so it continued, until Emily had Cain laughing – _laughing_ – with stories from Kansas. Cursing the clear and accurate memories of the units, DG listened, in a bemused sort of way; past embarrassment and so utterly comfortable in a place that could almost have been home, that when there was a knock on the door to break the spell, it brought her so firmly into reality that she was surprised to see the shadows had started to creep up on them, and the light of the twin suns had taken on the haziness of late-afternoon.

Beside her, DG saw Cain stiffen slightly in his seat, alerted to the possibility of company, and she knew his ears were strained for any sign of Hank's return. When the older man did, he was pointing behind him with a jerk of his thumb, and his eyes sought out Cain first before swinging to DG.

"Young man at the door is looking for you, uh, Captain Cain."

DG felt herself relax a little. _Hass is here,_ she thought.

Cain touched her shoulder briefly, leaned down to whisper that she should stay put, and disappeared out of the kitchen. As she watched him go, putting his hat back on his head as he went, she realized she hated watching him walk away. When he'd moved out of sight, she turned her head to see both Hank and Emily watching her, both with knowing and concerned expressions fighting for dominance on their faces.

"What are you really doing here, DG?" Hank asked almost immediately. "Did you run away?"

DG shook her head. "No, no," she assured them. "We're trying not to attract any attention, but I didn't run away. I'm... well... its a little complicated." Absently, she began to spin the ring on her finger, thumbing the jewel set in the band. Talisman, Cain's token, protecting her and marking her as his. Strange that she didn't mind, that she _wanted_ to be his, when all her life she'd seemed to fight to be her own person.

"You're not eloping, are you?" Emily asked, eyeing the ring that flashed at her. She looked to Hank. "She came under disguise. Look at her, her eyes are brown."

DG near-snorted with laughter. "No, I am not eloping! Well... no, not today. Maybe next year. And I'm wearing contacts," she lied.

"Contacts? In the Zone?" Emily asked cynically. DG only shrugged non-committally.

"Well then, there must be something we'll be able to help you with," Hank said logically, "or else you wouldn't have come to us."

DG frowned. "No, I came here because I missed you guys. Cain and I are on the road looking for some information, but I really don't think you'd be able to help with that."

"You could always try us," Hank said with an encouraging smile. "We might've spent fifteen annuals out of the Zone, but there's no harm in letting your friends help you where they can."

With a sigh, DG folded her hands on the tabletop, and took a moment to herself, studying the lines on her skin, the curve and polish of her fingernails. The thin silver band that sat, so at home, on her left hand. Where could she begin? What could she actually say? What she knew was patchy, strange, volatile, and the rest... the rest was still anyone's guess, what they were looking for.

_Okay, how to put this,_ DG thought, and after another moments pause, she chose her words. "I am looking for someone with knowledge about the Emerald of the Eclipse," she said, very stiffly, as if asked for an answer in class that she didn't quite have. She raised her eyes to the couple that sat across from her. "There is more trouble coming. I don't know exactly... its part of what we're trying to find out."

"More trouble coming?" Emily asked her. DG could only nod grimly. Though she wanted to tell everything that she knew, to beg for help, she knew that what she said and what she did had to be carefully monitored. Both Glitch and Wyatt had drilled that into her head... _rethink everything; what you say, what you do. Hell, rethink what you think, _Glitch had said one day as the coronation and the anniversary of the Eclipse had drawn too close for comfort.

"How do you know this?" Hank asked. DG could only shrug her shoulders. "Well, why you, then? This doesn't exactly sound like the type of thing you'd be expecting a princess to do."

She laughed. "You guys didn't really raise me to moan _'Why me?'_" she said with a sage nod, knowing that trying to explain the task the Gale had given her, her burden as a _Daughter of Light_, wasn't something easily done. "You should be admiring my stick-to-itiveness."

Hank didn't look placated. His round face showed nothing now but his concern, as he tried to work though what very little information she'd given him. "And you're doing this with only the one guard?" he asked, nodding his head towards the front of the house, where Cain and Hass still presumably were.

She shook her head. "Two guards. The man that just arrived is the second."

After that, Hank was silent. He got up from the table and crossed the room to look out the window over the sink. Through the open back door, DG could see a little of what he was watching; a small barn, a backyard full of grass in need of cutting, planters on the back step that were bursting with life and color. It could be home, it could have almost been...

"Well, DG," Emily said slowly, searching for words when there were none to be said. DG's attention was dragged away from the backyard that sat on the other side of the screen door. Em looked helplessly at the young woman who sat at her table. "I wish that –"

"What about Cynthia?" Hank spoke up suddenly.

DG watched in amazement as Emily's face turned a brilliant shade of red. "Hank Denslow," she said, sounding incredibly offended, "I don't think that is a right proper suggestion. You don't need to be subjecting the poor girl to _that_. And another thing, she's a princess, she should never, _ever_..." She stopped speaking then, pursing her lips together tightly. It was a gesture DG remembered all too well. Part of the old _'If you can't say something nice...'_ adage Em adhered to.

But Emily had forgotten exactly who she was sitting next to at the table. Immediately, DG's curiosity perked.

"You don't need to be subjecting me to _what_, exactly? Who's Cynthia?"

Both units, however, were silent, and the approach of footsteps in the hall seemed to cement the conversation's end. DG's jaw was dropped when Cain re-entered the kitchen, now looking harried. "Thank you very kindly for your hospitality," he said apologetically, as he motioned for DG to stand, "but its time we were gettin' back to the inn."

DG looked up at him as she pushed herself away from the table. "Was it Hass?" she asked.

Cain nodded. "He's gone to get settled in, we'll meet with him later." His eyes spoke volumes to her, though mostly she found herself being told to be quiet. Perhaps he'd heard where the conversation had turned as he'd walked towards the kitchen.

Her mind was working as she made ready to leave the house. For all her studying Ozian history in the past ten months, the name _Cynthia_ stood out from nothing, but for some strange reason, she felt a tug at the back of her mind, as if she should be remembering something important, like the name or place that always hung onto the end of the tongue.

She was hugged by Emily at the door, and though the embrace was slightly stiff, DG revelled in the familiar arms, the warmth of the touch. Hank hung back, smiled and said goodbye, though as the door was closing, DG caught Em shooting very dangerous looks at her partner, looks that she remembered from the years she'd spent with the two. Hank was in a very large amount of trouble.

As they left the yard and headed back towards the inn, walking so close that their fingers occasionally brushed – and she wondered what he might do if she reached out and grabbed his hand – Cain spoke as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. "You feelin' any better?" he asked bluntly. She smiled to herself, knowing there were many more questions tucked in with the one he'd asked; _was the visit what you wanted it to be, are you glad you got to see them again, are you going to be okay now that we've left?_

She took a deep breath, squinting as they walked into the suns, headed back to their room – and hopefully supper and a bath. "I am feeling a bit better, thank you," she said appreciatively, glancing sideways at him. The wooden-board side walk they were on echoed dully underneath their feet.

"Hass is waitin' on his instructions," Cain said with a hint of a scowl. "Seems that no one actually told him what we're doin' out this way. Someone is gonna have to fill him in."

DG smiled. "'Someone' meaning me, right?" She laughed at the seriousness in him when he nodded at her. "Ooh," she cooed, "this will be my first briefing."

Cain raised his eyebrows, stopping them under the shade of a tree that overhung the side-walk. "You almost sound excited." He sounded amused by this fact, and when she looked up at him, into his icy eyes, she could almost see a glint in them that touched too deep, stroked the hidden place that only he knew how to find inside of her. Strange, that words and glances could do such things.

"Well," she said, and her smile widened, "I've got to get excited about _something_."

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Twilight had begun to settle upon the city as the chauffeured car passed through the gates of the Central City palace. Coming to a stop in front of the ornate front entrance, the rear-door opened before the driver could get out of the car and come around.

Peter Andrus stepped out of the black sedan, seizing a moment to let his head fall back to take in the dizzying height of Alta Torretta. Above the farthest reach of the towering palace, the sky was turning a deep, velvety blue. With a sigh, he righted himself and hurried up the grand, sweeping front steps of the palace.

The uniformed palace guards flanking the doors opened them wide for him, and he nodded in appreciation as he went through. Inside the largely imposing foyer, very few staff remained, and the doors had been closed to the public for hours. In the massive front hall, a few working bodies were scattered here and there, going about the massive task of keeping the palace immaculate and in running order. Walking briskly towards the elevator, he ignored the opulence of the scrolled wallpaper, the rich fabrics, the intricately tiled floor. An aristocrat of the Northern province, he barely noticed such things.

After an exceptionally long upwards climb, the lift doors slid smoothly open and Andrus found himself faced with the Queen's chief advisor, Ambrose, the moment he stepped out onto the royal residential floor. "Ah, Master Ambrose," he said, as he'd been expecting nothing less – and had, in fact, been surprised that the former-headcase hadn't been waiting for him downstairs at the entrance. "Are you here to make sure I don't get lost?"

"I was on my way downstairs to make sure you'd arrived safely," Ambrose said diplomatically, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice that would have made Andrus want to smile, were he a smiling man. Over the past annual in the O.Z., many friendships and alliances had been forged or rekindled in the lull of peace and celebration – though it was not the case with the general and the advisor, the men could work easily together when required to under normal conditions. Nothing that brought them together now came close to the abnormal events of ten months past, and if he could survive the advisor through that, a meeting with the Queen over military affairs was a stroll in the suns.

"Where will Her Majesty be receiving me?" Andrus asked as the two men struck a path straight across the mirrored entryway of the Queen's residence.

"She's ready for you, and waiting in her quarters," Ambrose told him.

Though his expression didn't change, there was a slight upwards twitch to one eyebrow as Andrus responded. "Her personal quarters?" An odd place.

"Her Majesty has been a little under the weather since yesterday evening," Ambrose said quickly, shooting the general an apologetic smile. Andrus remained silent, not liking the underlying tone in the advisor's words. His suspicions were further confirmed when he was shown into the Queen's private sitting room, to be greeted by a pale slip of a would-be monarch with teary, red-rimmed eyes. Unnecessarily, she rose from her seat and walked across the room slowly to allow him to take her hands in greeting.

"General," she said in a soft voice, one that strained with the effort of holding back a heart-full of emotion. "How are you this evening?"

"I'm quite well, Majesty, thank you," Andrus said, and let go of her hands. He set to removing his coat, and handing it to the valet that waited at the door; the boy left the room, and Ambrose backed out without a word, closing the doors firmly shut behind him. "I am sorry to see you unwell."

"Stress," she said. "A lot has happened in the past week." The Queen waved a dismissive hand at him, a gesture that encompassed the ascension of a new queen, what would surely be a turning point in the history of their country, this chance at redemption for a broken nation – and perhaps, more personally, for the new queen as well.

"Yes," Andrus said, "it has been busy." After the week of ceremonies, celebrations, and conferences, Andrus had finally been able to send his wife back North to their home, and she'd been glad to go. He wished he'd been able to join her.

Almost as if reading his thoughts, Queen Azkadellia asked very kindly, "How is your wife, General? And your daughter and her family?"

Andrus gave the young ruler an indulgent smile. He'd missed the coronation ball in favor of returning quickly to the south of the Scar, so there had been no chance for them to meet and for her to ask such irrelevant questions in a social setting. Politely, she asked now. "My wife is glad to return to the country," Andrus told her, "and my daughter and her family are whole and sound." Queen Azkadellia only nodded, before turning her back to him, her eyes trained on the floor as she returned to the seat she'd left to greet him. Standing at ease in the center of the room, he waited for her to speak, but as the seconds ticked on and on, passing into a minute and then altogether too many minutes, he cleared his throat. "Your Majesty," he said, "if I might be so bold –"

"You want to know if I've come to a decision," the Queen interjected. Andrus nodded, holding his tongue as the raven-haired monarch sighed deeply, heavily. "I assume you have no new information for me?"

"Only more reports of increased activity," Andrus said. "Men we suspect are fugitive Longcoats have been seen patrolling the Black Forest. One of my spies in the village of Byvasser has been contacted by one of the local merchants there. Rumor is that supply caravans are being smuggled into the forest through one of the cave networks."

The Queen seemed to blanch at the word _'cave'_ but when she spoke, her voice was steady, steadier than he'd heard it since arriving. "General, the entirety of the South is riddled with cave systems."

"So, you see the need for us to deploy more scouts," Andrus said gently.

Azkadellia sighed. "Send out all the scouts and spies you want, General. You are not to launch an offensive, nor are the Longcoats to be alerted to the activities of the AR."

"Our presence in the South has been undetected so far," he told her.

"Good. Make sure it stays that way," Azkadellia said with a firm nod. "Though, I must say, I don't see what any of this has to do with Jeb Cain, or the reason I had to release him from my personal guard."

"The lieutenant is going to lead the infiltration team into the Black Forest," Andrus said. "When the time is right, of course."

The Queen closed her eyes. "General," she said slowly, "I do not like the idea of any harm befalling the lieutenant."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, Jeb Cain is a soldier. He follows what orders are given to him willingly," Andrus said. He held his tongue to keep from adding that he'd never come across a more headstrong young rebel in all his annuals of service to the crown, or his time with the Resistance in the North.

"Jeb Cain is the son of Captain Wyatt Cain, who has, you may not know, become engaged recently to the Princess Royal," the Queen said. "_Young Mr. Cain, _as you call him, is by extension a member of the royal family." She seemed to be angry with him, speaking through her teeth. "I want it made clear that if he takes this mission, it is to be of his own volition. I won't..." Her voice cracked and she looked away, breaking the hard gaze she'd held upon him.

So that was it, plain and simple. As Queen, all answered to her, and all was done in her name and the name of the country she ruled. After all that had been done during the Possession, if Jeb Cain met his death during this mission, it was not a guilt she wanted to face. "I understand," Andrus said, trying to convey that he truly did. "I will give your orders to the lieutenant."

Without looking at him, Azkadellia nodded. Silence fell upon the room then, and it held for quite some time. Finally, knowing that one more thing had to be discussed, Andrus parted his lips and began to speak.

"There is another issue, Majesty."

A low, aggravated moan escaped the Queen, most unfitting of her station. Andrus hid a smile, watching as the young woman turned her reddened eyes on him with a resigned sigh. "Make it quick, Peter," she said dejectedly.

"We, um," Andrus started, but stopped. His throat felt suddenly dry; strangely enough, he was not sure how he was to bring this up with the young woman. Andrus, despite what those who served under him might say, was not a heartless bastard, and he could see, quite plainly, that the Queen before him was no more than a distressed, utterly lonely girl. Clearing his throat to give his sentence another start, he tried again, silently asking for forgiveness from his patron. "We have reason to believe, Your Majesty, that there is more organization afoot here than just a few renegade 'Coats banding together."

In her seat, Queen Azkadellia straightened, and if possible, her face seemed to become paler. "What do you mean?"

"The heart of the Forest... it seems to be protected by magic."

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***

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Wyatt Cain stood with his back against the heavy wooden door of the room he shared with DG at the inn in Milltown. DG had thrown a spell up, some sort of sound barrier, and he could feel the warmth of it emanating from the door behind him. They would be heard by no one, but Cain would still be able to hear if anyone approached from the hallway. Handy, to say the very least.

Across from him, Corporal Hass sat in one of the straight-backed wooden dining chairs that flanked a small table. He was watching DG, who stood near the bathroom door with her arms folded across her chest. She was chewing her lip, and she kept looking at her feet. The corporal looked bemused as he waited for DG to start speaking.

Cain hoped this wouldn't take too long; supper had taken longer than intended, as their hosts, the MacGruders, had asked for news from up the road, and one story had led to another. It was near-late, he was exhausted, and DG may damn him later, for all he wanted to do was get a few good hours of sleep.

DG, as usual, was the one to break the palpable silence. "_So_," she said, dragging out her vowel, and Cain resisted an urge to roll his eyes. This was going to take a while. "Here's the deal."

Cain watched Hass try to wipe the smile off his face, but it was a losing battle. DG gave an exasperated huff, and with a small cough, the corporal straightened in his chair. "Can I just ask one question?" he cut in.

DG frowned. "What?"

"How close to a repeat of last time are we looking at?" Hass asked, quite bluntly. Cain was surprised at the astuteness of his query.

_Last time... capture, imprisonment, beatings, escape. The royal family never asks much, do they? _Cain thought, and his lips settled into a grim line. His eyes stayed on DG as she paced in a small circle, and he could almost hear her talking to herself inside her pretty, dark head about how best to answer him. _Just talk, Kiddo, no point in beating around it._

"Well... hopefully nowhere near like _last time,_" DG said quite seriously. She paused for an moment, and then she continued, "I'm looking for a way to destroy the Emerald. Or at least the magic inside of it." Noting that she'd left off the part stating that he and Hass were supposed to protect her while she did this, Cain continued to watch her slowly walk back and forth, so lost in her own thoughts that she could have been carrying on a conversation with herself. The sight was almost enough to have made him smile under different circumstance.

"You have to _destroy_ the Emerald? Why?"

DG bit her lip, shooting a glance back at Cain. He tried his best to look reassuring, but only managed to give her a small nod, to let her know she was doing all right, that she should continue without this trepidation. Whether she got the message or not, he didn't know, and he realized that her ability to send her thoughts to others could sometimes have its uses.

When DG turned back to the corporal, his eyebrows were raised in her direction. "The double eclipse has passed, and the Emerald no longer needs to be safeguarded by the Gale family. Its a... _burden,_" she said carefully, and then skipped over her more personal, familial reason. "Its power could also be very... tempting to others."

Hass nodded, as if he'd made a connection. Surely enough, the next second... "You mean the Outlanders." The corporal sounded very sure of himself, and Cain had to admit it was a sharp observation, though he frowned at the very mention of the mercenaries across the Western border, over and deep within the mountains.

DG shook her head. "No, actually. _Not _the Outlanders."

"Then who?" Hass asked.

"I don't know," DG said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Maybe no one yet. Eventually, though... the risk can't be taken. The existence of the Emerald is a danger to the country." She sounded convinced of this fact, and Wyatt knew, without having to ask, that she'd done a lot of thinking over the past ten months, since her second meeting with the Gale, after they'd escaped from the Commander's complex. Thinking to be rid of the burden of the Emerald, only to hear that it still wasn't over.

"_Its not over. I don't know... don't know what that means yet, but... but... its not..." _Her tear-choked voice rang out through his mind then, crossing time to come to him.

"Well then," Hass said after a moment, "how do you destroy the Emerald?"

"I don't know yet. That's why we're traveling, to find out."

"And then you have to actually _do_ it. Destroy the damn thing, I mean," Hass said. DG nodded slowly, and the corporal slumped a little in his chair. "But you don't know when or how yet." Again, DG nodded. Hass sighed deeply. "So one brick at a time then, eh?"

"One brick at a time," Cain repeated, his first words since the three of them had settled into the room and the spell had gone up. DG turned to look at him appreciatively, and the smile she gave him warmed him ever so slightly. Enough that, for a moment, he forgot how tired he was.

Hass leaned forward on his knees, contemplating everything he'd just been told. "Is there a plan, then?" he asked after a moment. "I mean, assuming you're not going to start knocking on doors. The word _Emerald_ would probably clam people up right quick."

"I've got a meeting with one of the, um, _residents_ here," she said. "I met him when I first came to the O.Z., and he was the only person that I could think of going to now, aside from Tutor, who, by the way, knew _nothing _useful. And, Ambrose only had brilliant ideas on how to harness the power, not how to shatter it."

Cain grit his teeth at DG's mention of Ambrose and his inventions. If he ever so much as caught the man with a screwdriver in his now well-manicured hands again, Glitch would be very sorry he'd dragged Cain's frozen ass back to DeMilo's wagon.

The end of what she could tell him, the conversation only continued on for a few minutes, before Hass stood, shaking his head. He left the room, muttering about job hazards and troublesome princesses. When the door was shut behind him, Cain turned around to see that DG had flopped down onto her front on the bed, her face buried in the remade quilts.

"Tired," she mumbled.

Wyatt chuckled low as he moved around the bed, unbuckling his gun-belt as he went. After removing it, he hung it over the chair Hass had vacated. "Why don't you go run a bath, it'll do you good to relax before crawlin' into that bed and passin' out."

DG pushed herself away from the bed, and into a sitting position. "Will you join me?" she asked, and there was no hint of teasing in her voice. It was a simple question, and the four words spoke more to him about how she was slowly easing into the comfort of being with him full-time, a quiet, unspoken promise that she could settle into an existence together.

"I'll meet you in there," he said with a nod, and with a pleased smile she hopped off the bed and scooted into the bathroom. The urge to make a grab for her backside as she passed him shimmered through his fingers, but he fought it back with a clench of his fist, keeping his instincts in check, and yet still amazed that she could make him feel so playful. It had been a long, long time since such an emotion had coursed through him.

The door to the bathroom closed, and he could hear the water start to run. Turning off the lamps, Cain unbuttoned his vest, removed it, and laid it down on the bed. A static charge ran through the room then, raising the hair on his forearms; it piqued his interest for only a moment before he realized DG must have released the spell she'd put around their room.

In his shirtsleeves, he stood at the window and drew back the curtain. He'd wait until he heard the water in the other room turn off, give her time to settle into the bath before he intruded.

The streets of Milltown were dark, quiet, and empty, but most windows that faced the street were bright with life. No wind stirred the trees at the edge of town, and the clouded night would hide the moons once they rose. It was... _peaceful_, and he could feel a calm descend over him, an inner-peace that only came with the sense of assurance he felt from the princess he guarded, the woman he loved. To love again, a true surprise, but... not unexpected. He could have shut out the world, but she always found him, saved him. Releasing him from the suit, chasing him into the woods, finding him in a dark prison cell five stories beneath the forest floor. A strong force bound them now, though whatever it was, he wasn't sure.

It didn't quite matter, somehow. It just _was,_ and that was fine by him.

Seeing a light turn off across the street put into Cain's mind the overnight and the next morning. DG would speak to the old cyborg, Vue, and he would head into town to see about the post office to send a message to Glitch if he could... _while_ he could. DG merely referred to it as _checking in_. The chance of a telephone out this far was unlikely. Perhaps in a few annuals, but not now...

Cain realized then that the water was still running. Frowning, for he knew the tub in the bathtub was not overly large, he crossed the room and knocked curiously upon the door. "DG?" he called out. No answer. His frown deepening, he took the doorknob in hand and turned it, pushing the door open.

His first boot-fall into the bathroom landed in a puddle of water, as the humidity of the room bathed his face. He scanned the room quickly, only to find the floor close to flooding, the tub overflowing, and DG gone.

* * *

_Author's Note II: Thank your for all the well wishes. Things are looking up (my mom's tests all came back negative for cancer, woot!) ... sorry about the cliffy. Or am I? Dun dun DUN! My muse is feeling a mite peckish, I bet a review would fill her artist's belly!_


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

As DG closed the bathroom door behind her, she took a moment to lean back against the supportive wood. Her heart, though not pounding, seemed to be skipping away on her just the same. A hand over her chest, she looked around the bathroom, her eyes finally settling on the footed bathtub. Pushing herself away from the door, she moved across the room, set in the stopper, and turned the taps. The taps squealed when she twisted them to set the temperature of the water, and she could hear the pipes groaning. Such noises didn't distress her – in fact, strangely, she found them rather welcome. But, then again, she'd grown up in an old farmhouse.

Moving without thinking, she drew the curtain over the window, and then shimmied out of her pants. As she picked them up off the floor and folded them, she admired them unabashedly. The jeans she held were _hers_; the material was stiff, familiar. Though they'd require a little breaking in, and though they were more a workman's style than something feminine, she honestly didn't care. She felt, strangely, like she'd grown up too much in the past year – annual – and sliding her legs into a pair of jeans was a little like reclaiming a piece of herself. Why it felt like that, she didn't know, it just felt _good_ and she wasn't about to question it.

As she placed the folded pants on the vanity of the small sink, her eyes purposefully avoided the mirror. But as she straightened, crossing her arms over her front to grip the edge of her tank top, readying to peel it off, she felt the slightest bit of a breeze tease through her hair, an instantaneous sensation that was over before she'd known it had happened. Letting go of her shirt then, and turning slowly around, she saw nothing. She checked the window, only to find it shut firmly. Shaking her head, her eyes fell upon the water that was inching its way closer to filling the tub, and then...

She felt a sharp tug on her hair, strong enough to jerk her head back, and painful! Whirling again, she saw nothing, no one; her hand flew up to her hair, massaging her now sore scalp. Then, another tug, just as hard; it was a consistent pull. She opened her mouth, drew a breath, her lungs ready to form his name but as she called out to Cain her voice was lost in the wind rush that surrounded her as she was yanked bodily from the room, not by any physical force but by what, she didn't know. She was flying fast and she saw nothing, surrounded only by a black, oppressive... _nothingness..._

And then with a sudden thump, her momentum stopped and she landed hard; she let out a surprised "Oh!" simply because she had to make a noise, to hear herself, to hear _something_ other than the deadening surging sound of her motion that had so abruptly silenced. The darkness was clearing, and oh _Lord,_ was she dizzy. She put a hand to her forehead, letting the room spin for a moment.

Wait... _room?_

_Oh no_, she thought, as she tried to swallow away the initial swell of panic. _What just happened? Where am I?_

Moving her hand away from her face, she dared to take a look around, and was immediately relieved to see herself in a familiar place. The lights were dimmed, but she could make out her surroundings enough to know she was back at Alta Torretta. Though the room was not necessarily discernible, she knew, just knew, that she was in the palace. Whether it be the smell of the air tickling her nose, or the quiet hum she heard now, that was so familiarly the sound of a Central City night, she wasn't sure.

"Oh, thank Gods," said a soft voice, and the jumble of where, how, and why in her head suddenly slid into the beginnings of understanding.

_Azkadellia._

DG was about to climb to her feet when she came to an embarrassing realization. She was currently, and quite plainly, without pants. _It could be worse,_ she told herself, _she could have pulled you out of the tub. Or worse, you could have been underneath – _and the thought cut short as she said, "Cain's not gonna be happy when he notices me gone, Az."

"Ohh," Az said with a slow exhale. "I didn't think of that." Following the sound of her sister's voice, she saw Azkadellia, wearing a long black negligee, collapsed limply into a large wing-chair. The deep red colour and high back of the chair reminded DG of a throne, but the woman that had fallen into it looked nothing like a queen.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and the moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished them back. _You and your stupid questions, DG,_ she chided herself. She'd had this conversation with her brain once before, the day she'd let a ragged shell of a man out of an iron suit after eight annuals of mental torture. 'Areyouokay?' she'd asked him... _no, DG, he's very obviously_ not _okay._

"Sorry," Az said, shaking her head. She looked up at her sister with a stunned expression on her face. "That was harder than I thought it would be."

DG studied the room as she spoke to her sister. "What exactly did you do?" she asked; the room was massive, and it came to her clearly that she was in the Queen's bedchamber, once her mother's and now Azkadellia's. A room that had seen some of the greatest women in the history of the O.Z., unguarded and completely as they truly were, without the weight of their crowns bowing their heads. And here was Az, washed out and pale and broken, and DG, confused and unprepared... how fitting.

"A summoning spell," Az said dismissively, as if it weren't a big deal, but she looked near-drained.

DG's mind, however, was back in the bathroom. There was no way she'd get back before he realized her missing. Resigned, she sighed. She brought her knees up to hug them against her chest, the broad flashes of white flesh drawing Azkadellia's attention.

"Why aren't you wearing pants?" her sister asked, plainly knocked temporarily off her mental course.

"I was getting ready to take a bath," DG explained. Az nodded in understanding, before a horrified look crossed her features.

"I'm sorry, Deeg," she whispered, looking so amazingly contrite that it made DG's heart hurt.

"Don't worry about it," DG said automatically. "But do you think you could help a girl out?" She motioned with her hands to her naked legs. Azkadellia was out of the chair in an instant, crossing the room to the massive wardrobe; after a moment of rummaging, she came up with a silky robe. DG tossed it on gratefully, and once she had it belted closed, she grabbed her sister in a crushing embrace.

"I'm sorry I left like that."

Azkadellia sounded forgiving as they pulled apart. "Don't worry about it, DG. We've all got things that need to be done. Its best to just get it over with, isn't it?"

DG frowned, unsure of who Azkadellia was trying to convince. "Maybe," she said. "But why did you... _summon_ me here?" She tried out the unfamiliar word, which felt odd on her tongue. Truth be told, she could very easily become deeply angry with her sister for the thoughtless intrusion. She bit back the lash-out she felt rising. Azkadellia's actions, while hasty and discourteous, were not without reason. Need was plain on every inch of her sister's face, from the sadness in her eyes to the downward tug at the corners of her full lips.

Standing now, hugging herself in the middle of her sister's suite, she felt so ridiculously torn on the issue that she was very sure she wanted Az to be the one doing the talking. _I left the water running,_ DG thought absently.

It took Az a moment to start speaking, as if she were having trouble focusing her thoughts into coherent words. "I've just finished meeting with Andrus," she said finally. "There's news out of the Southeast, and its not good."

"_...I might tell you to stay out of the Southeast..."_

DG's brow furrowed, as she tried to shake away the strange, random thought. "_How_ not good?"

Azkadellia let out a small laugh then, barely more than a push of air through her lips, and it chilled DG to the bone. "Longcoats are amassing," Az said after a moment of searching the floor. She'd returned to her chair, and now sat a little more regally, having regained a bit of her bearing in her sister's presence. "The generals will be sending their spies into the Black Forest to try and find out who is at the head of it."

"_...Stay out of the forest after dark, DG..."_

DG bit her lip, unsure of how to respond to her sister. Military matters were not her strong point. She knew the Black Forest encompassed many 'spans' – which in her best guess was near to a couple hundred square miles – taking up parts of both the southern and eastern provinces, and that it was uninhabited, much farther south than the tree-dwellers of the Eastern Guild made their homes. Most of the forest was impenetrable; none of the books she'd read contained any information on it other than its name, and none of the maps she'd seen showed anything more than a hazy green expanse labelled boldly, ominously, as _the Black Forest... _or not at all.

"_...In the darkest corner of this country..."_

"DG?" Azkadellia said softly. "Are you all right? You look like an undead."

Her attention snapped back to her sister, her eyes focusing on Az's worried face; her mind had drifted once again. Frowning, she tried to pick up the thread of conversation she'd dropped, knowing she was meant to respond. "So I'm assuming you want us to avoid the forest like the plague," she finally managed weakly.

Az's eyebrows perked up with interest. "Plague? What plague?"

"Never mind," DG said with an aggravated sigh.

"Well," Azkadellia said slowly, succinctly moving on, "it might be best if you stayed out of the Southeast all together. Stay to the West of the Qualdin bastion at Morrow... unless..." Here Az paused, as her eyebrows knit together in thought, and DG held her tongue, not wanting to interrupt. "DG," she said so abruptly that the younger woman's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Have you decided where you're going to start looking for... a way?"

DG took a moment before answering. "I'm meeting with one of the elders in Milltown tomorrow, I'm hoping he might have some insight, but other than that..."

Azkadellia gave pause, contemplating her words carefully, a silence that seemed too palpable for DG's liking. When her sister finally spoke, it came as the thinnest whisper. "You might go see the Reader."

"The Reader?" It was a term that she hadn't crossed before, and she struggled to make some sort of coherent connection. "You mean, a Viewer?"

Az shook her head; studying her sister, DG realized Az was paling more by the second. "No, the _Reader._ She... she makes her home in the Realm of the Unwanted. She's... well, a sort of fortune teller. The –" And here she paused again, drawing a shaky breath. "– The Witch consulted her about the location of the Emerald. Now, she wasn't able to give the Witch an answer, of course, but its possible the magical protections on the Emerald have weakened since the Eclipse... or perhaps the Witch didn't ask the right question. You only get one."

It was the most her sister had ever spoken of the Sorceress that had held control over her for so long. Even though DG was proud of her sister for facing her demons, she couldn't stop herself from looking skeptical over what Az had just suggested. "A fortune teller? As in palm readings and cards?"

Azkadellia gave her sister an indulgent smile, albeit a weak one, and shook her head. "Not quite. She's not some roadside hawker... although, I do believe her _business_ extends out into the streets of the Realm." DG didn't like the way Azkadellia's mouth formed the word 'business', as if it were a term no good lady should have dripping from her lips. "If you asked the right question, DG, she might be able to tell you how to complete your test."

DG smirked, though the wheels in her head were already turning. "Wouldn't that be cheating?"

"I don't think it matters, DG. But... you might have a hard time convincing Wyatt Cain its a good idea."

"Why?"

"The Reader's Parlour isn't somewhere a princess should be seen," Azkadellia said, and by the way she pursed her lips together, DG knew the subject was closed.

With a sigh, DG shrugged her shoulders. She wondered absently just how many minutes had passed since she'd been pulled away from Milltown. It couldn't have been more than fifteen, but it was already too long, stretching on too far. "Going to the Realm won't take us too close to the Black Forest?" Though the Realm was unmarked on any map, she knew it was close to the forest, a few hours ride southeast of Finaqua.

"Not if you're careful."

DG gave a slow nod. "Okay," she said with a sigh. "You have to send me back before Cain really freaks out on me." She frowned at the very thought; though none of this was her fault, and he would be easily diffused, the first few minutes of facing him wouldn't be pretty... not pretty at all. Unless... "Oh," she said suddenly, "is Jeb on his way back to Central City?" If she returned with news about Jeb, it might deflect a little bit of Cain's initial anger. Knowing how incensed he was going to be, DG could almost hear the low growl that he would greet her with.

Azkadellia's eyes widened slightly, and she seemed to struggle with her words before finally speaking. "Lieutenant Cain has been chosen by the generals to lead the infiltration team into the forest. I don't know when he's going to be returning."

_Oh, great. I really wish I hadn't asked,_ DG thought, now bound to relay this information to Wyatt. She might have to save it for when she'd managed to calm him down. She held out a hand to help Azkadellia out of the chair, and as soon as her sister was standing, she gave her another hug. "How are you holding up?" she whispered into her sister's ear, when she'd tucked her chin over Az's shoulder. Much to her surprise, or perhaps not much of a surprise at all, Az seemed to shrink in her arms, her shoulders falling and a deep exhale escaping from her.

"There's no time to dwell on it, DG," Az said, sounding suddenly much younger and much older at the same time.

"You're probably right about that," DG said, tightening her embrace, "but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't take time to deal with what happened, Az." The perfume in her sister's hair was making her dizzy, but she didn't pull away or let go. She knew she had to go, and she knew it had to be soon, but she couldn't just walk away again. "Tell me that you're going to be all right," she said, her words soft and coaxing. She felt her sister nod.

"Ambrose is making sure to take care of my well-being," Az told her sister as she pulled away. They held their hands between them for a brief moment, the soft shimmer of white light radiating from their skin a great comfort to both sisters.

"Well good," DG said with a sad smile, watching her sister's face carefully. "I'll come back and kick his ass if he doesn't take care of you while I'm gone, and make sure to pass that on."

Az gave a small smile. "I will." She took a step back. "I should send you back. Are you ready? It might be a bumpy ride."

DG laughed, as it couldn't be any rougher than the first trip, and it was all still more pleasant than a travel storm. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"Keep your destination in mind," Az said with a nod. "I don't know exactly where I pulled you from, so it's going to be hard to send you back to the exact same place. You might end up on Milltown's Main Street."

DG frowned, and gave a sigh. "All right... well, I'm keeping the robe, then. And hey," she said suddenly, "promise me you aren't going to do this again. I'm sure there's another way of sending me a message without having to magic me halfway across the Zone to deliver it in person."

"I promise," Az said sadly, realizing her mistake for not the first time, and she tried to give her sister an apologetic smile. The sisters hugged one last time. When they'd separated, DG screwed her eyes shut.

"Hold onto something," her sister said.

_Hold onto what, exactly?_ she thought, and she couldn't help but laugh, but the sound was lost in the sudden wind rush that swept over her.

* * *

***

* * *

Wyatt Cain moved on impulse, crossing the small bathroom in two strides. His boots splashed in the water that had run over the floor, as he turned off the taps to cease the flow. The taps complained loudly at his strong grip and jerking motions. Straightening, he took in the bathroom, every corner. The room was completely and utterly empty, devoid of anyone but him.

He took a brief moment to retrieve his revolver from the bedroom. Checking the cylinders quickly, although he knew it to be loaded, he returned to the bathroom. He walked around the bathtub, situated in the middle of the room, and went to the window.

Practically ripping the curtain off its rod as he shoved it out of the way, he gripped the sash hard and pushed it upwards. He was hit immediately with a blast of cold wind. How it could be so damn cold in August was beyond him, but the thought distracted him as he checked the balcony that ran from one end of the building to the other, connecting all of the rooms. Not a soul outside.

_Where the hell did she go? _he wondered, as he pulled himself back into the bathroom and shut the window.

Moving faster now, he tucked his revolved into his belt, not wanting to waste time putting on his holster. He tried to quiet his heavy boot-falls as he made his way down the hallway to Hass's room. Frowning, he rapped sharply on the door. After a moment, and the sound of some fumbling on the other side, the door was yanked inwards.

"Captain," the corporal said, surprised to see Cain. "Is something wrong?"

Cain gave a curt nod. "DG's disappeared."

A tremor shivered through Hass's face before his mask of seriousness broke into a grin. He was barely able to hold back the snort of laughter as he asked, "Got away on ya, did she?"

Cain bit back a growl, as he he jerked his chin sharply towards the window that could be seen on the opposite wall of Hass's room. He hadn't thought Hass's special scouting talents would come to usefulness so soon. "I want you to circle the village, see if you can find her."

Hass nodded his understanding, as he stepped backwards from the door. "You think she's gone outside?" he asked, crossing the room and pulling open his window, as Cain had done minutes before in the flooded bathroom. Cain could only shake his head, grumbling to himself as he shut Hass's door; as he pulled it closed behind him, he heard the muted sound of the shapeshifter's change.

In his own room once again, he checked around for DG, as if she may have magically reappeared, but the room was empty and silent but for the _drip, drip, drip_ of the water in the bathroom. He grabbed his coat and headed downstairs, planning on checking out the perimeter of the building. On his way across the entryway, the landlord came out of the back dining room, alerted by the sound of his rushed footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Can't sleep?" MacGruder asked.

Cain shook his head, barely stopping for a moment at the door, the handle already gripped in his hand. "No," he said, keeping his voice firm and even, though he was beginning to feel the tug of adrenaline, as every minute that went by did so without DG's return. "Thought some fresh air might help."

The landlord nodded. "Stay close, sir. Wouldn't want you spooking up one of the residents."

Cain frowned as he headed out onto the porch. Making sure the door shut quietly behind him, he didn't let his lungs adjust to the bite of the cold air as he headed down the steps, slowly moving through the narrow walkway between the inn and the hardware store next-door. Creeping silently, he didn't draw his gun but kept his hand hovering near the grip of the revolver, his calloused fingertips brushing the polished wood. In the rear-yard of the inn, he found nothing but a picnic table drowning in knee-high, dry summer grass, and a well-worn path leading to a row of storage sheds near the back of the property; beyond that, the woods began.

The falcon lost in the darkness cried out, long and lonely. Continuing on his circular path around the inn, he cut across the yard and around the other side of the inn, passing by the dimly lit windows of the office, and the private rooms of the innkeepers. As he stepped up onto the porch, he could have sworn he heard footsteps on the balcony above his head, but when he stopped to listen he heard nothing, and shook his head at his own foolishness. The echoes of his own feet hitting the dull wood beneath him had the hairs on his arms raising.

_Get a hold on yourself, Wyatt,_ he chastised himself firmly as he headed back into the inn, the warm air causing his cheeks to prickle. Though the landlord gave him a welcoming nod of acknowledgement as he crossed to the stairs, he did not come out of the back rooms, and Cain was glad for the lack of conversation. Mounting the steps two at a time, he made his way quickly to his own room.

In his haste, in his recklessness to just _find_ her already, he'd left his door open. Planning on walking right by, to see if Hass had returned, he was surprised to hear... _sounds_ coming from within his own room as he passed. Doubling back a few strides, he stopped in the door frame and listened hard.

Water... splashing, but not running. A deep, feminine sigh, and a few grumbled curse words. His fingers curled around the grip, and he withdrew the revolver from his belt. Calmly, he pulled back the hammer as his slow steps moved him farther into the room, and then –

"Put it away, Cain. It's just me."

The voice was DG's, and she sounded miserable. Disarming his gun and tucking it back into his belt, Cain walked quicker now, until he'd come into the doorway of the bathroom, and took in the sight before him.

DG had emptied the tub, and now stood in her underwear, and something he was sure would be classified as a shirt, by her definition. From somewhere, she'd snagged a mop and was now diligently cleaning up the flooded mess of the bathroom. The absurdity of it, a princess mopping the floor in her panties, kept him from entering the bathroom properly to stand over her and demand where she'd gone. Instead, his brain, working a bit more properly now at the sight of her at the very least safe and sound, told him he needed to notify Hass of the fact that she was fine.

Frowning, and holding back the lash of words his tongue had ready, he pointed a finger squarely at her. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

She grinned innocently at him, leaning on the mop-handle. "Oh come on, Tin Man. Where am I gonna go?"

Clenching his jaw, he shot her a patronizing look and walked out of the room, down the hallway to the corporal's room. He knocked on the door, but after a minute realized he must not have returned yet. He opened the door a crack and peered inside, only to find the room empty, as he'd suspected.

With a sigh, Cain crossed the room to the open window and climbed through out onto the balcony. He took these moments to calm down, as he moved down towards his own room, to where he could see DG moving about in the bathroom, a shadow behind the curtain. Wherever she'd gone, he'd know in a few minutes.

Looking upward, the sky was clear, and after another few minutes on the balcony, he could see the faint, black shape of a bird coming towards him, wings widespread. The falcon landed, perching on the wooden railing for a moment before shifting, and the corporal was hopping down and standing straight next to Cain as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.

"I didn't see her Captain. I suggest that –"

Cain shook his head. "There's no need. She's back safe."

Hass gave a deep sigh. "Well, thank the Gods for that, then. Where did she get to?"

"Gonna find that out here, shortly," Cain said. He waited for Hass to climb through the window before following, and when he stood up inside the corporal's room, ready to say goodnight and head back to DG, he found himself instead watching the young corporal looking like he had something to say, the stumble and catch of a child with a secret.

"Make it quick, Corporal."

"Um, I was thinking about what the princess said this evening," Hass said, and then he paused, clearing his throat. "Has anyone mentioned going to see Cynthia to her?"

Cain gave a quiet growl, and the corporal's eyes widened. "You keep talkin' like that, Hass, and you're gonna be nursin' a black eye." He left the room without another word, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. His steps carried him purposefully to his own room, and when he had the door at his back, he shrugged out of his coat and called out for DG.

"I'm almost done," she responded, and he could still hear her wringing out the mop, then the slosh of it hitting the floor again. Grumbling but patient, Cain waited for her, flicking open the cuffs of his shirt, tugging it out to hang loose. He'd just started unbuttoning himself when she finally came out of the bathroom, drying her hands on a towel. When their eyes met, he could feel the panicked jump inside of her at his harsh glare, but he didn't let up. As he opened his mouth to speak, she immediately threw her hands up.

"Don't freak out!"

Frowning, Cain felt himself deflate a little. "_Where_?" was all he asked her.

"Az pulled me out and summoned me to Central," she said quickly, apologetically. "And don't worry, I already made her promise not to do it again. Awful way to travel, it made me dizzy." She ran a nervous hand through her hair. "I'm really sorry." Her wide blue eyes bore into him deep, deeper than he'd ever thought he'd be letting her get. Sighing, he gave up on his buttons.

"Why would your sister summon you?"

DG shrugged. "There's news out of the southeast from the generals."

Cain nodded. "They figure they've got the Longcoats cornered in the Black Forest," he said, and though he noticed her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, he noticed she didn't question his knowledge. "So your sister gave the order for them to head on in, eh?"

"Yes," she said resignedly. "She said Andrus wants Jeb to lead the spies." She bit her lip, and tried to quell a shiver that ran through her. She was cold, still damp from cleaning the bathroom. A thin quilt was hung over the end of the bedstead, and he passed it to her. As she wrapped it around herself gratefully, she asked him, "Are you worried about Jeb?" The query was soft and tentative.

Cain looked away from her, concentrated on the tasks at hand he could find for himself; he placed his revolver on the bedside table, hung his duster up in the closet. "Yes," he said slowly, carefully forming the words for her. "But Jeb is a soldier, and was a grown man long before we stumbled across each other again. He can hold his own."

Thick silence fell over the room then, strains of quiet that hung in the air like smoke, ready and waiting to be broken with the breath of words. Neither spoke, as DG crossed the room to the window, to stand huddled with a blanket around her shoulders, looking out into the darkness, or perhaps merely at her own reflection in the glass. Cain watched her, as he always watched her, waiting for her to speak. She said nothing, however, and it was strange that _he_, of all people, could find silence uncomfortable.

"Az said..." she whispered finally, and stopped. She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder until their eyes met, before slowly turning the rest of the way. "Az suggested we make our way to the Realm of the Unwanted to see the Reader. Az said that she –"

Cain resisted an urge to shake his head. "Your _sister_ suggested you go see the Reader?" It was a name he'd heard too many times today to make him feel comfortable. Into the Realm wasn't somewhere he wanted to be taking DG in the first place, it ran too close to the southeast, too close to the supposed Longcoat activity. He found his voice hardening as he continued to speak, but he couldn't stop the influx of sudden protectiveness. "And what did your sister suggest you do about the Reader's price?"

DG's eyebrows knit together; she was confused, it was plain on every inch of her pale, sweet face. "Az didn't mention anything about a price... she just said I had to ask the right question. She said I only get one. What's wrong with –"

Cain interrupted her, his voice sharp. "An annual of servitude for one question, DG. If you want an answer, you accept the price before you ask your question! An _annual,_ Princess. Is that a sacrifice you're willin' to make?" He frowned, as he could see her decision clear on her face before she spoke, and his heart tightened, his jaw clenched as he realized that something as serious as an annual of self-sacrifice was just another price she was willing to pay to absolve her guilt and complete her task. He stared at her, mouth slightly open, as she began to speak.

"What other choice do we have? If it means she can tell us how to destroy the Emerald, maybe its worth it, Cain," she said firmly, stubbornly, and Cain forced himself to close his eyes, so as not to see the determination settling on her face. She didn't know, couldn't know, and how could he tell her just what kind of _sacrifice_ she'd be making? "And maybe... maybe if I explain things to her, she'll –"

"Fool's hope," he snapped.

"Well, I'm heading to the Realm in the morning," she said, so damn inflexible that one of these days she'd break fighting herself. "I have to try _something_, Wyatt." She sought out his eyes, beseeching him to understand, the quivering blue pulling him in, though every nerve of his being told him this wasn't their best option. Anger was rising in him, not directed at her, but rage at these circumstances beyond his control, the fact that she was right about one thing... _what other choice do we have?_

_Not many, Darlin', but this isn't something you want to be seein', _he thought, finding himself suddenly sad. Crossing the room then, he stood in front of her and put two hands on either side of her blanketed hips. Her eyes were pleading with him, whether from fear or uncertainty or desire, he couldn't discern.

"It'll be two days ride to the Realm," he said quite calmly, trying to convey that he wasn't going to fight her on this. She smiled up at him then, letting go of the blanket as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling her scantily-clad body impossibly close to his, pressing her curves into his hard lines.

DG leaned her head back slightly, waving a hand over Wyatt's shoulder to turn off the lights, casting them into darkness, as she found his mouth with her own, pressing sweet kisses to his lips. He responded quickly with a fierceness all his own, frustration and tension causing him to cover her with crushing kisses, bruising her lips as he slid his hands upwards under the soft cloth of the thin, tiny shirt. She moaned beneath him as he felt the flutter of apprehension beneath her skin. Wrapping two arms securely around her waist, he lifted her off her feet and took her to the bed, drawing back the blankets with one hand before dropping her unceremoniously between the sheets.

She was giggling as she reached for him, accepting his heavy body into the cradle of her thighs, as her legs clutched at his still-trousered hips. The caress of her mouth was frantic as she was fuelled by every emotion coursing through her. There was no restraint in any movement now as he braced himself with one arm, bringing the opposite hand up, running under the fabric of her shirt to cup her breast, thumbing the nipple roughly. DG cried out, arching into his hand; the strangled mewl escaping from her throat shot straight to his groin, all his blood rushing fast, the slam of arousal nearly knocking the breath out of him. He was quickly forgetting himself, taken over by need, as she reacted strongly to his every ministration.

"Clothes," she muttered under her breath, as she grabbed him by the back of the head so he couldn't move. The darkness of the room did nothing to quell the heat shooting from her eyes, he could feel her sight roving over his face, and he sat back to allow her this time to breath, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. When she growled impatiently at him, the sexiest little sound, he smirked; seconds later, she was sitting up and pushing at him with her hands towards the edge of the bed. Taking the hint, he stood on the floor; she was yanking at his belt and zipper with her little hands the next second, deftly working through the clasps and fastenings, her fingers continually skimming the hardness she felt through his pants.

DG ducked her head, and in the dark an image flashed through his mind of her lips wrapped around him, and Gods, it was too much for him to handle. Too much time had gone by since he'd had her, and he throbbed at the thought of burying himself deep within her. Lacing a hand through her hair, he gently pulled her up to him, capturing her mouth in a possessive kiss, his tongue claiming hers in a slanted rhythm.

Repositioning onto her knees before him on the bed, DG finished unbuttoning his shirt as he kicked off his boots and trousers. Gripping the edge of her shirt, he peeled it up and off of her, lowering his mouth to the creamy flesh, catching a taut nipple between his teeth before pulling it in and sucking softly. Her fingers left his shirt to grip the back of his head, nails running along his scalp. He moved his mouth, tracing paths of warmth along her skin to the other breast, paying equal attention as he felt her softness under his lips. When she pulled away and crawled up onto the bed properly, he followed her, on his knees before to grip her panties in his fingers and slide them down her legs. He took her right leg and lifted it, kissing the inside of her knee, running his hand down the smooth skin around to her bottom, pulling her towards him as he hooked her leg upwards over his shoulder.

Guiding himself to her entrance, he gave a gentle thrust, sliding in unimpeded; her other leg swung up over his hip, her heel pressing into his tailbone as she dragged him closer, forcing him in deeper. A sigh of completion escaped her, as a groan of appreciation spilled out of his mouth. So unbelievably tight and wet, a homecoming like no other as her walls pulsed around him, bringing him to the edge so very fast.

"Wyatt," she murmured, her hands reaching up to run over his chest, her fingernails flicking over the nipples through the abrasion of chest hair, making it hard for him to concentrate as he began to move slowly, hands on her waist, pulling her body towards him as his hips surged forward of their own volition. The old bed creaked slightly at the rocking motion they created together. Her breathing began to hitch, soft sighs mingled with tiny cries of pleasure. There wasn't enough light for him to see her properly, only to feel her; letting go his death-grip on her hips, thoughts of bruises absently crossing his mind, he ran his hands up her abdomen, the small soft swell of her belly, the ridges of her ribs, the soft curve of the undersides of her breasts. She was mumbling incoherently under her breath again, words that sounded like _please... close... Wyatt..._

The sound of his name tumbling from her sweet mouth caused another rush of arousal, pushing him closer to climax. Growling now, moving faster, deeper, he leaned down, letting her leg slip off his shoulder to catch on the crook of his elbow. The change in angle caused the princess beneath him to moan, arching her back into him, and oh _Gods_, she was there, coming all around him, squeezing rhythmically; she whimpered under his lips as he pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth, and in the next instant, with one hard thrust, he let go, his entire mind wiping blank but for the flashes of white behind his eyes, as he swallowed back the cries that came with his release.

DG's hands gripped at the collar of the shirt he had managed to keep on, dragging his head back to hers, breathing into him as she kissed him again and again, promises and questions and answers all wrapped up in the gentle brushes of her lips. Shaking now, Cain rolled away from her, taking only a moment to shrug his arms out of his shirt before gathering her to spoon against his chest. She covered them with the blankets that had been kicked to the end of the bed.

"Get some sleep, DG," he managed to say as he struggled to catch his breath. Already he could feel the rest of his body lulling into the safety of sleep. It would be only a manner of minutes before his mind followed suit; he lifted his head only briefly to make sure his revolver was still situated on the nightstand.

"Mmm," DG moaned, sounding satisfied and tired. "Goodnight, Wyatt."

"Night," he whispered into her hair. The two settled back into the pillows, and for the first time in the annual that they'd known and loved each other, they fell asleep in the same bed, secure in the fact that they'd wake up in each other's arms. Anything beyond that could wait until tomorrow.

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_Author's Note: Cain and DG continue in the next chapter with lots of fluffy conversation that wouldn't fit in this chapter, which has now been officially deemed the Chapter That Wouldn't Die. Longest. Chapter. Ever. Feel free to leave me a review, they continue to be helpful (even if its just muse stroking)._


	12. Chapter Twelve

_Author's Note: Thanks to all that have been leaving reviews. Thanks to Queen Isabella, KLCtheBookWorm, Bookworm37, and Erin at LJ for continuing to help and support this story!_

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**Chapter Twelve**

DG awoke to the bluish-grey of pre-dawn. Her surroundings were unfamiliar as she opened her eyes, she was laying in the wrong place... but no, it came to her fast. Milltown, her sister, Wyatt... she covered her eyes with her hand, as one after another, the memories slid into proper place, until she was able to uncover her eyes and know where she was. She was laying on her side, near the edge of the bed; sometime during the night, she'd rolled away from Wyatt. Turning over onto her back, her foot collided with the firm length of his leg. He lay on his back, one hand on his chest, the other on his stomach. The blanket lay over his hips, gripped in the hand resting on his abdomen.

Why she was awake, she didn't know. It only seemed as if sleep had come to a sudden stop. Blinking, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness, she tried to remember if she'd been dreaming. Nothing came to her, only the memory of falling asleep wrapped up in Cain's arms, and then blissful emptiness until her eyes had popped open.

The night before came into sharp focus, as her brain began to waken, and she wasn't sure on what she wanted most to concentrate on – Azkadellia's summon, her decision to head to the Realm, or Cain's unexpected back-down and concession. She had no idea why he'd given into her so quickly, and she wondered if she had cause to worry. She wasn't used to him giving her what she wanted without a fight, or at least the illusion of some sort of resistance.

_Its always what I want... what about what he wants? I don't even know what that is, _she thought, the realization making her heart plummet and her need to get closer to him sky-rocket.

She moved carefully now, turning onto her side to face him. Propping up on an elbow, she studied his outline in the weak light. His maker had drawn him broad, with hard, solid lines. She resisted an urge to reach out, to feel the softness of his skin or the tickle of the hair that covered his arms. The straight of his nose, the angle of his jaw – these were things she knew were there, despite the cover of dark.

He slept soundly, and his breathing was even. Daring to scoot bare inches closer, until the crook of his elbow was pressed into her belly, she tried to get a better look at his face, but the shadows in the room were still too thick. Cain... Tin Man, hero, white knight, what have you, did it matter? More than those things, and yet just a man. Father, friend, lover... she raised her hand and laid it down on his chest ever so gently, to rest just over his heart, to feel its strong beat beneath her palm.

"_... Believe me, heart's got nothin' to do with it..."_

DG sighed, her mind coursing through a torrent of memories, the path that had led them here, to the warm bed and their naked bodies and her hand keeping still over his heart. She felt honoured that he trusted her so much with the most fragile piece of himself.

_I love you_, she thought, letting it slip away. No sooner had she wondered if the intruding thought might wake him up than Wyatt was stirring, shifting. The hand on his stomach let go the blanket to shoot up and grasp her gently by the wrist. "Hey," he whispered, "you all right?"

She smiled. "Of course I'm all right. I was just thinking..."

"I know," he said with a gravelly chuckle, "I could hear you." She was surprised at how tense he'd woken up; she'd startled him.

"Sorry about that," she said, feeling guilty that her neediness had woken him up. Wyatt relaxed his grip on her wrist, and she pulled away, trailing from his heart down to his abdomen, coming to a stop near the edge of the blankets.

"Mmhmm," he hummed, as his hands came up to cradle her face, capturing her efficiently. He pulled her into a soft, chaste kiss. "I love you, too, Sweetheart," he said as he ran the tip of his nose up the side of her face, a most tender caress. He seemed to be sitting back, waiting for her; DG took a small breath, and she let her hand go lower, following the light sprinkling of hair that created a trail from his navel downwards. She felt his muscles tense under her skating fingers, but he made no move to stop her, and she found herself smiling.

"Anything else you were thinkin' about?" he prompted teasingly, as her exploring fingers found his length already half-hard; he hissed sharply between clenched teeth as her fingers circled his base, then stroked upwards once. Heat from her hand seemed to pour straight into him, fuelling his rapidly awakening lust. He turned onto his side and propped up on an elbow, mirroring her position. His hand settled just above her hip, his big fingers dangling down, tickling her lower abdomen as he waited for her response.

"Well," DG said slowly; she took the time to briefly lick her lips. When she didn't continue right away, his hand grasped at her waist firmly, his thumb sweeping heavily over her skin. Whimpering, her hips bucked forward instinctively, and her fingers tightened about his erection. Thought... she'd been having a conscious thought, at some point... right? Oh yes... "I was thinking about what you want."

Again, Wyatt laughed. How could he be laughing? She might very quickly be swept away in the pounding of her heart and the sudden ache in her lower abdomen, but damn it, there wasn't anything funny. His arm was snaking around her to jerk their hips together; startled, she let go of him, her hand shooting up to grip at his arm, still wrapped firmly around her.

"What I want, huh?" he whispered huskily, leaning in to place his lips close to her ear. His hand was sliding down from her back, over her bottom, until his fingers traced over her thigh; he swung her leg over his hip, bringing himself a little closer to her as he did so.

Her lip trembling, DG replaced her hand over Cain's heart, trying to calm the raging storm in her own. "We don't ever talk about what _you_ want," she told him, though part of her was sure he was well aware of this fact. Its not that she hadn't noticed before, it was just that it had never _bothered_ her as much as it did at that moment. How it could bother her, when suddenly his mouth was assaulting her neck, she didn't know; he was gently nipping and then sucking at the tenderized flesh, driving all her thought processes to almost non-existence.

She could feel him, hard and demanding now, prodding at her entrance; she moved her hand to his shoulder and gave a shove, shifting her weight and rolling them until she was on top. Growling at her play for the upper hand, Wyatt positioned himself and dragged her down onto him forcefully; a shiver ran through her as her back arched, deepening the angle and rubbing just right enough to make her moan.

His hands travelled up her back to hold her close, pressing her breasts against his warm chest. "I want," he said, bucking his hips lightly against hers to recreate the friction, "to take you like this every morning." Boneless against him now, she let him pull her head down to his to draw fierce, unyielding kisses from her lips like breath, his tongue dominating hers. Every movement seemed to counteract the one before, as he moved gently one moment and then with controlled power the next.

"Not what I meant," she managed to say. DG pushed away from him, bracing herself on his solid chest as his hands returned to her hips, holding her in place. "When all this is over," she said, a little more softly. _All this,_ encompassed by the strange bed in which they lie. "What do you want?"

Wyatt gave another upwards thrust, guiding her hips to rock forward as he did so, and she moaned low, her head falling back. Heat coursed through her at the place where their bodies joined, coiling slowly, but so tight. "I want to marry you," he said simply, but no, it wasn't simple. When she tried to roll her hips forward again, he stopped her, and she could almost hear him smiling.

"What else?" she asked him, frustrated by his refusal to let her move, annoyed by his patience and restraint. She squeezed around him, to give a little back, and he groaned, surging up into her again.

"Want to..." he whispered raggedly, lifting up on her hips and dragging her back down hard. "...Outside the city. One day."

Following the rhythm his strong hands set for her, DG raised on her knees and came down, rocking her hips as she did so. He was hard, and deep, and the angle was just enough, but she wanted it to last. "Wyatt," she moaned softly, as his hands left the guiding post of her hips to skim up her sides. He cupped and fondled her breasts as she rode him, playing the nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand. She arched her back, pressing into his touch; his hands were driving her crazy, everything was spinning and hazy around the edges. His hands slid up to her neck, gently tugging her down, bringing her face to his and kissing her passionately. Fingers tangled in her hair, he didn't let up, his tongue diving into her mouth again and again.

"Want to feel you come, Darlin'," he almost growled when he finally tore himself away, drawing a deep breath to form those words. His hips began to drive up into hers again, sending the coil spiralling out of control, rising faster and faster, until she crested and moaned into his neck, biting into her lip to keep the sound as quiet as possible. Warm waves spread through her, from her hair to her toes as he slowed to accommodate her, and soon, he stiffened, pulling her down hard to bury himself as deep as he could go to spend himself within her. His breathing came in sharp huffs, as she gently undulated over him, to prolong his climax, until he gripped her hips and brought her to a stop.

"Easy there," he whispered gruffly, a soft laugh chasing the words.

Content, she draped herself over him, burrowing her face into his neck as his arms went about her. Her body rose and fell on top of his as he tried to gain control over his breathing. "Now was that so difficult?" she asked him, lifting her head to whisper into his ear, and then placing a few kisses along his jaw.

"Depends on what you mean by that," he said, already coming back to himself, guarded and careful. DG rolled her eyes, gave her muscles a squeeze around the hardness that was still buried in her. Wyatt groaned; he wound his fingers into her hair and guided her head back so he might look into her eyes. The darkness was giving way around them, the suns would be coming up soon, the greyness lifting. "What's with all this 'want' talk, Deeg?"

"I don't know," she whispered honestly, shrugging as best she could while pressed so close to him. "I was curious, I guess. I didn't see the harm in asking." She frowned, suddenly rethinking the whole thing.

"No harm," he assured her, and sealed it with a kiss. "You are too persuasive," he said as she pulled away and settled down against him again. "What I said is true."

_You want us together every morning,_ she whispered to him with her magic, focusing just so... as close as he was, his body firm beneath hers and the scent of him all around her, it wasn't hard to let him hear her every thought. Once again, Wyatt's arms tightened around her, though he didn't oppose her intrusion. _You want to marry me. You want to live outside the city, _she finished, hard-pressed to stop herself, to leave off his last comment. Still, something in the resounding memory of his words, the orgasm he'd given her, passed between them as she shivered and his hips gave an involuntary jerk. She moaned his name out loud, the tail end of it caught up in his mouth as he kissed her again, cutting her off and swallowing her up.

"Lets go get cleaned up, Darlin'," he said, when he had to come up for air. Shifting his hips, he slid out of her, and DG felt suddenly too warm and sticky. Disentangling herself, she climbed off of him, down to the floor.

"You sure you want me running a bath, Tin Man?" she asked him as she slid Az's silky robe around her shoulders. Tying it closed, she walked over to the window and opened the curtains. While the room only lightened slightly, it was enough for her to get a better glimpse at the man sprawled naked on the bed. She grinned at his lack of modesty.

"Just leave the door open, would ya?" he said gruffly, but in the dimness, she could almost see him smile.

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Miles from Milltown, to the South of the Scar, Jeb Cain awoke shivering in the back-seat of his issued vehicle; his second day in camp was beginning. The entire world seemed to be painted over in pale grey. Rubbing his eyes as he pulled himself to sitting, he took a few moments to stretch out his stiff limbs before climbing over the front seat. He opened the door and practically fell out of the cab. Humming an old hymn, he relieved himself, and then settled on the rear bumper of his truck to watch the camp wake up.

He mused over his situation as he realized he was the first one fully-awake. The rhythm of function normally didn't change from one camp to another, and this one was no exception. He'd spent a small portion of the day before learning the swing of the camp, the names of a few of the men. Some, he remembered from his days in the Resistance, from his time as leader or from before, the life on the road with his mother. Others, however, he'd never met before. New recruits, most from the Qualdin province.

Activity in the camp had reached a lull by yesterday evening, when Andrus had been in Central City, meeting with the Queen. The general was due to arrive back at any moment, and Jeb kept his eyes trained on the road, waiting for the car that would bring orders from Azkadellia.

The night before, as the men had sat surrounding the fire-pit, Jeb had found himself silently joined by a few other soldiers, men he'd never met. Young, just as he himself was, seemingly from different parts of the country. Perhaps with similar purpose. There was no talk to be had, no introductions were made. Only quiet affiliation.

Around his truck now, parked on the fringe of the camp, men were stumbling out of their tents. There were no more than a few dozen soldiers and officers, stuck in the gap between obligations. Signs and sounds of life were beginning to pour out from the makeshift mess-hall on the opposite end of the camp, and most of the men, Jeb noticed as he looked up from examining his already-dirty fingernails, made their way towards the promise of coffee.

A few men, however, hung back near the edge of the camp, eyes on the road.

Jeb smirked. Four in all, including himself, waiting on Andrus and the orders from the Queen.

_The Queen... Queen Az_, he thought, and a wistful smile crept unbidden to his lips. He'd spent most of the day before trying to shove thoughts of her away from him, as the image of her in his mind brought a heavy feeling to his chest he couldn't quite explain. He'd kept busy, going as far to help the camp cook with supply inventory. But she always came to him, as if she were sending herself to him... impossible, given the distance, he knew, but even so, Jeb couldn't quite get over the sensation that something wasn't sitting right.

His immediate future was in her hands – her orders would designate whether he walked headlong and with intention into an enemy base, or headed back to Central City to walk at her back and continue as her kept secret. That, surely, he'd prefer – it had taken him a long time to come to terms with his personal feelings for the long-possessed princess, now he only worried about how he would step back when it came time for her to choose her husband.

The first sun was up, and the second beginning to rise when the sound of a car approaching cut through the air. Jeb looked up, forcing himself to stay sitting. Patience, he didn't have his father's patience. Impulsive and quick, like his mother. Like the princess his father now courted.

As the car pulled up, General Andrus climbed out of the rear-seat before the car had come to a complete stop. Leaving the door hanging open, he walked swiftly to the base-tent, motioning for Jeb to follow him with a quick jerk of his head in passing.

Jeb was slow in getting up and following. Most eyes had settled onto him, and he tried to walk confidently, though he felt like he was surely being led to the gallows. Inside the grouped tents that served as a headquarters, Andrus was pulling off his gloves, and General Marsh was settled back in a rickety wooden chair. The other generals had left the previous day while Andrus was in Central.

"General," Jeb said after he'd saluted. Andrus waved him off, though Marsh's head gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"I have your orders, Lieutenant Cain," Andrus said shortly. Jeb stood, arms behind his back, and said nothing, not sure if he was meant to ask or respond. After a moment's pause, and a sigh, the general continued. "The Queen wants it made clear you take this mission of your own free will. She will not order you into the forest."

Jeb looked up sharply. "What? I don't understand."

Andrus cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Do you take the mission, Lieutenant?" he said, not wanting to dwell on such personal matters as the discomfiture he'd seen in the Queen the night before.

"Yes," Jeb said without hesitation, his mind on the Queen who'd let him know in the only way she could that she cared, that she wanted him safe. She had not forbid him, she'd only given him the choice. Though he knew he'd come to regret this decision later, probably when he was near death or captured by enemies, he knew very clearly at that moment exactly what he was doing.

Close to midday, Jeb finally came out of the generals' tent. The morning had been spent going over what information was available, devising tactics, coming up with several 'worst case scenarios' that played with his nerves. There was a plan, or a tentative plan, and he'd learned in the Resistance that room for flexibility usually ended up being a good thing.

Three heads looked up when he began the walk towards his truck. The three soldiers, he knew their names now, knew their faces, their service records, the names of their parents... nodding towards a burly, red-headed soldier, he said "Get your gear," and nothing more. The soldier, however, lowered his chin as sign of recognition, and headed back into his tent. The two other men who'd been watching got up from their places and walked away.

All had been waiting for their orders. Now they had them, and they went their separate ways.

Jeb stopped at his truck to pick up his jacket and his pack. He'd need to secure a horse, and one for his new partner as well. They'd make for Byvasser, a small village nearer to the gorge, and hopefully reach it before dark. They'd meet with someone who would help them make contact with the Longcoats. If all went well, in a few days time he'd be crossing the barrier that surrounded the heart of the forest, and finding out just who the 'Coats were gathering under.

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Firm in her decision to head south to pay a visit to the Reader, the group made ready to leave Milltown that very morning. While DG met with Father Vue, Cain sent a message to Ambrose via telegraph. The information on it was sparse, only vaguely hinting at the direction they intended on heading.

After he left the post office, Cain made for the stable where he'd rented overnight care for their horses. He had their things packed and both beasts saddled when he heard DG laughing. A smile was on her face when she came into the stable to greet him, blonde and brown-eyed, disguised once again.

"How was it?" he asked, referring to her meeting with Vue. He brought the animals out of their stalls and led them down the drive-bay. She followed beside him.

"It was a bust," she said absently, eyeing the stable-worker that was pretending to pay attention to something else. She ran a hand nervously through her blonde hair. "You should have come, he asked about you."

Cain smirked, casting a sideways glance at her. "Really."

She nodded. "Yes, he referred to you as 'that vengeful fellow'."

He couldn't help but laugh. Standing outside the stable now, he paid a final tip to the owner before returning to DG. After helping her mount, he pulled himself up into his own saddle, and the two of them waited for the corporal to join them. If DG noticed he tried his very best to keep his smiles to himself now, tried to keep his eyes downcast and away from her, she didn't comment. A quiet day of travel spread out before them.

The wind had died, and the air around them was still. They walked their horses for a distance, before kicking to a steady run, as Cain hoped to get them as close to the southern edge of the Papay fields before nightfall as possible. He didn't fancy the thought of being caught in the orchards after dark, and they couldn't make camp on Papay land. While far from afraid, something about the dreams DG had been having unnerved him. Papay fields, and a mention of _dark eyes._

The group rode west, back the way they'd come, passing close enough to Central City to see the towers and spires sparkling in the mid-afternoon suns-light. The day was beginning to grow colder, as the suns began their descent, and they came to the edge of the Papay fields, and the only road that led to the south.

Cain, who was in the lead, slowed his horse and then brought her to a halt. The others followed suit behind him as he climbed down, and soon DG was speaking up as she, too, hopped down from her horse.

"Can we make it to the other side before dark?" she asked him. Though the trees had come back to life, bore on their branches the promise of a bountiful harvest, travellers still crossed the fields at their own risk. Though the Brick Route had been deemed safe for the people of all the Realms, the grangers and runners of the Papay were not subjects of Her Majesty, and followed no such laws. Peaceful, yes, most of the Papay had become, but there were still rumours of rogues in the packs.

"Chances are low," Cain said slowly. He took the reins of Hass's horse and tied her to his own saddle. The corporal would not be riding with them across the fields, instead keeping out his sharp eye from his unique vantage point. "We ride slow and stick to the road."

DG nodded slowly, looking into the field, branches green and heavy with fruit. Her mouth watered at the sight, but she knew better. They wouldn't encroach on the cordiality of their hosts during their crossing. "Can a horse outrun a Papay?" she asked him in a bare whisper, trying to make herself sound casual.

Wyatt turned to give her a brief smile. "We're not gonna need to outrun anythin', Princess," he reassured her. "Even if one of those runners has got in mind the taste of maiden."

She frowned, until she realized he was teasing her, and then she was laughing at herself. After Hass had shifted and taken flight, circling low once just above the canopy before taking off higher, both DG and Cain climbed back into their saddles, and started at a slow pace.

The road followed an endless row of trees, gnarled, leafy branches created an open topped tunnel, walls of green reaching into an infinite expanse of cold blue sky. The road itself was hardly any more uneven than in other parts of the Zone, and it was in need of repair. The horses picked slowly over the unsteady terrain, ambling as peacefully as possible, worried about nothing. Cain relaxed a little, though he held the reins in only one hand, to keep the other positioned firmly over his holster.

DG, to her credit, was trying to ease the tension by keeping up pointless conversation. She'd veered back onto the morning's topic, and had settled on the subject of weddings. "I was thinking," she said easily, lifting a hand to bat a stray, dark hair out of her eyes; she'd dropped the glamour as soon as they'd left the edges of Milltown, and he was glad for it. He missed her blue eyes. "Instead of making an announcement of our engagement when we get back," and here she paused, glancing over at him to see if she had his attention. Cain kept his face straight, not wanting to rise into anything in case she was setting a trap. "We could just... get married, and then announce it. No parties, no interviews, no big-ass wedding." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Just a small wedding," he said, trying out the idea on his tongue. "Is that what you want?" he asked her, knowing full well how fixated she was on what _he_ wanted.

DG laughed, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound. "Are you kidding? Do you think I want to go parading around for months? No... no. I just want you and me. And you know, family and stuff." Cain raised an eyebrow at her, and she cleared her throat. "You know, Jeb and Glitch and Raw and Az. Family."

Cain turned away from her, keeping his eyes on the road ahead instead, as he let her words settle in. It really could be as simple as that, once they were home. The princess who didn't want a royal wedding. The thought caused him to smirk, and then shake his head as it broke into a smile.

"That sounds just fine by me, Deeg," he told her. Sometimes, she really could be something else...

Suddenly, their horses were rearing as something dropped fast from above them; Cain was nearly unseated, though DG managed to keep herself slightly more upright. Quicker than his thoughts could follow, he was drawing his gun before his mare had all four hooves back on the ground, and he was aiming downwards at...

A kid.

The boy was no more than fifteen annuals, and he was dressed in strange clothes that had Cain immediately questioning his origin. A brown knit cap was situated on his head, and the hair poking out from underneath of it looked dark and unruly. He carried a piece of fruit in each hand, which explained why his descent had been so ungraceful. Though Cain relaxed his grip slightly, he kept his thumb very firmly over the hammer, waiting.

"What the hell are ya doin', Kid?" he demanded, a harsh bite to his tone. The kid fell back a step, holding his hands up near his head, though he didn't release his prizes. He looked terrified, and ridiculous. But before the kid could stutter out an answer, DG was hopping down off her horse, and pointing at him.

"University of Iowa," she said, sounding confused, as she continued to point at the emblem on the kid's grey sweater.

"Can somebody _please_ tell me what's going on?" the kid pleaded, a hint of panic on the edge of his voice.

Wyatt was frowning as he dismounted, replacing his revolver in its holster. The kid visibly relaxed to see the gun had been put away, though his eyes still darted back and forth between the two people watching him.

"Are you from Iowa?" DG asked him.

"No, this is where my dad teaches, and all I get is the stupid sweatshirt," he muttered, running his fingers over the sweater's crest. DG was smiling at him. "I don't know what the hell happened, okay? I woke up in this forest and I've been wandering around since this morning. You're the first people I've seen, although I swear to Christ I saw something that looked like a walking bush." His eyes widened dramatically, and DG's smile softened sympathetically. "Sorry I scared you and your horses. I'll make sure not to jump out at John Wayne here again," he said, nodding his chin towards Cain. DG giggled, and Wyatt felt his frown deepening.

DG walked the few paces between them and settled herself at his side. The kid was looking around nervously, and he'd jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"So you think he slipped over?" Cain asked the princess.

"Looks like," she said, mirroring his worried look, as she turned back to the kid. "What's your name?"

The kid cast a nervous glance from DG, to Cain, before looking back at DG. He looked hesitant to share the information, but after a long moment and an impatient glare from Cain, he relented. "The name's Tory."

"I'm DG," she said, placing a hand on her chest, "And this is Wyatt Cain. Where are you going?"

She seemed to have better luck getting information out of the kid than he had. "I don't know," the kid said shortly. "Point me to the nearest payphone, I guess, or my mom's gonna have the whole county out looking for me."

The falcon circling the skies above them let out a loud cry, signalling the need to get moving. The suns were nearing the horizon; soon darkness would be falling, and it was another few hours walk to the edge of the fields. His mind was torn between choices as to what to do with the kid, but when his eyes settled on DG, he bit back a growl at the expectant look in her blue eyes. She gave the kid a 'just a minute' gesture with one hand, before she took Cain by the hand, and led him away, pulling their horses along with them.

"He can come with us, can't he?" she asked, as if she were picking up a stray puppy. Cain threw a glance to the kid, Tory, who was biting deep into the fruit he held in his hand, who didn't seem to care either way what happened to him. He looked back down at the imploring princess, trying her very best to look convincingly charming. When he didn't answer her right away, she frowned. "Its not like we can point him in the direction of home, Wyatt!"

She had a point and she knew it. Sighing, he glanced upwards, searching the sky for any sign of Hass. He didn't want the corporal landing, and then shifting in front of the kid. The less about themselves they gave up, the better. "When we're done our business in the Realm, he goes to Central City," he said, not trying to hide the anger he felt. DG was watching him reservedly. "Someone there can figure out how to send him back."

"Aww, Cain," she said, giving him a patronizing pat on the shoulder. "I didn't know you were such a softy."

A pained grimace settled on his face, as he passed his reins to DG and went about untying Hass's horse from the saddle of his own. He knew he didn't have to tell her to keep to herself who she truly was, and what their business might be. "Can you ride, Kid?" he called out.

"Me?" Tory spoke up. "Uh, a little."

Cain tossed him the reins of Hass's horse. "Well, mount up then," he said. A call from above him brought to his attention that the falcon had landed in one of the branches that stretched out over the road. Cain shook his head, knowing that displeasure was currently etched into his face. The branch bounced lightly as the falcon took flight again. He could hear DG and the kid picking up a conversation, as she explained to him that he wasn't in Iowa anymore... wherever that was.

"We gotta pick up the pace," Cain said firmly, as he helped DG saddle-up. He watched the kid struggle into his saddle, readjusting the cap on his head as he gripped the reins tight. "You might want to relax in that saddle, Kid," he said, and tried his best not to sound as menacing as he was sure he seemed. "You're gonna be in it for a while."

Tory guided the horse forward, tentatively trying out the limits of the animal beneath him. Hanging back, Cain resisted an urge to shake his head and roll his eyes; he turned, only to find DG grinning at him, pleased to no end. "Thanks," she said.

"He's going to be nothing but trouble," Cain said low.

DG followed his gaze to where Tory rode ahead of them, and it was clear to him that she saw him as less of a hindrance, that she was already attaching herself to him as she always did. Her instincts were impeccable, he had to admit, but she followed them too blindly, with absolutely no caution.

"Come on, Cain," she said easily, Gods knew too naively. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Wyatt's jaw clenched as he bit back the response that wanted to spill out. _That's just about what I was thinking when I met you, Princess._

_

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Author's Note II: A new character means an update to the cast page! There are DIRECT links on my profile page now to the cast pages, to make it easier on readers. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Reviews are love! _


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_Author's Note: Thanks to erinm_4600 and kseda for their help! (Enjoy your trip, K!) - and I forgot to mention last chapter's nod at KLCtheBookWorm, who is the bestest (and interesting fact: ffdotnet's spellcheck recognises "bestest" as a word.)  
_

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**Chapter Thirteen**

It was full dark when they broke out of the Papay fields, the rows and rows of trees coming to an end so abruptly that DG felt very suddenly exposed, more so than she had under the eyes of the sentient grangers that had watched them during their passage through the fields.

An expanse of open meadow gradually ambled into thick forest, the road cutting a close trail through the dark trees. There was nothing to fear in the woods that had not been faced before, and the chance of coming across another party was slim. Even with the ability to travel the road, Cain worried about trying to push forward. They would make camp near the tree-line on the other side of the field, and pass through the woods come first-sunrise. They'd cross the gorge at mid-morning.

At the edge of the Papay field, they dismounted to walk their horses. The kid, Tory, had grown quiet over the three hours he'd ridden with them. DG found her eyes constantly drawn to him, as he looked about nervously, eyeing Cain with suspicion. She tried to offer the kid a warm smile, some comfort, but he only ever looked away unhappily. A less exciting entry to the O.Z. than hers by far, but in that respect she considered him lucky.

"How are you holding up?" she asked him when the three had landed on the ground and made ready to cross the field.

"I'm good, thanks," he said, but there was anxiety in his voice that was poorly masked. DG didn't press the issue, only motioned for him to stay close to her as she followed behind Cain. The Tin Man kept them at a fast pace, wanting to be clear the space and get a fire made as soon as possible. He was watching the terrain around them, searching for movement, ever alert and ready, and this always left him in a grumpy mood. The tension over the three companions was high as they walked carefully towards the tree-line, tripping over loose bricks.

Soon, the kid was hurrying to break stride with her. She slowed her steps slightly, smiling at him, though in the deep-blue of the night, she wasn't sure he could see her face. "So can I ask you a question?" he said, a bit nervously.

Grinning, she responded. "Sure."

The kid took a few minutes, and DG wondered if Cain's ears had perked towards their conversation yet. "So where exactly are we?"

"We're in the southern realm," she said simply. "We came through the Papay lands and tomorrow we're heading across a gorge, and that will bring us to Lake Country. This road is the Brick Route, and it leads all the way to Finaqua, but the land continues beyond into the southern mountains."

"Uhh," Tory said slowly, sounding a bit dumbstruck. "That made _no _sense. I got 'road' and I got 'mountains'."

"What about 'gorge', did you catch that one?" she asked, teasing him now.

Tory gave a nervous laugh, and his silhouetted form beside her ran a hand over the knit cap on his head. "Okay," he said seriously, "I saw a tumbleweed with legs today, and it _growled_ at me. There were _two_ suns in the sky when I woke up. Where the fuck am I?"

"Watch your mouth around the lady," came a gruff command from ahead of them. DG suppressed a smile.

The kid gave a derisive sound at Cain's comment. "Seriously," he said, "where am I?"

DG ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth, trying to give herself a minute to come up with an answer. Glitch had tried his best to explain it to her once, but the truth was that even his best break-down was all speculation. "I had it explained to me once as an 'alternate reality', but I really don't think –"

"An _alternate reality_?"

DG cleared her throat and continued. "An alternate reality would imply that there is one of you and one of me here, in the O.Z., and one of you and one of me _there_, on the Other Side, which, as far as anyone knows, isn't the case. The best explanation is that this is a separate dimension from the one you were born in."

"But you knew about my sweater," he said, tapping himself in the chest. "You know where Iowa is."

DG smiled, and the gesture was wistful and full of sadness. "I was raised on the Other Side. In Kansas. But I was born here. Now, on _this_ side, there are ways to travel back and forth between, but on the Other Side, there is no such way, only through freak of nature occurrences. And I do mean _nature_, because –"

"So you called this place 'the O.Z.'" The kid interrupted her again, and she frowned. Despite what she tried to tell herself, that she was still the same as she'd been – the farm girl, waitress, part time student – being treated like a princess for the past year had had _some _effect on her, and no one had treated her like just another person for quite a while, not until this kid. It was frustrating, yet refreshing.

"Yes," she replied. "The Outer Zone. Its an odd place."

"I can tell," the kid said with a disbelieving laugh. "So how do I get home?"

DG found herself frowning again. "I don't know," she said carefully. "But we've got a friend who will. We'll take you to see him when we're done in the south. Four days at the most, I think," she said, trying to calculate the distances in her head. "It'll be a rough trip, but you'll get home in one piece."

"Good," he said, sounding relieved and grateful. "'Cause my mom's gonna have an aneurysm."

The conversation died away, and they walked twenty minutes in silence. When they reached the edge of the woods, they picked their way around in the darkness until they'd found a suitable place to make camp near a stream, away from the road. Cain had a fire made and was directing a grumbling Tory at collecting more firewood before much time had passed. DG watered the horses and tethered them to graze for the night. She had just finished rubbing them down and was running her fingers through Juniper's mane when Wyatt found her.

"Hey," he said low. They could hear, off in the distance, the kid crashing around in the woods, picking dead-fall off the ground.

"Hi," DG said, not bothering to try to hide the exhaustion she felt. "So what are you thinking?"

"'Bout what?" he asked her absently, looking around.

In the dim, dancing light cast by the fire, DG could make out the angles of his face, could see the frown that was etched upon his lips. "About Tory," she said, nodding her chin to the other side of the camp-site and into the trees, where Tory could be heard.

"Somethin' not quite right with that kid," Wyatt said carefully.

DG shrugged. "He's not going to be any trouble, Wyatt, and Glitch will know how to send him back home."

Cain made a rough sound in the back of his throat to let her know he agreed with her, but the sound was non-committal at best. Giving the mare one last pat, DG walked back to the camp and settled on the ground with her pack beside the fire pit, digging around inside it until she'd found her hairbrush.

There was a fluttering of wings above them, and she looked up to see the falcon land on a branch that overhung the edge of the camp. DG offered him a smile, but the falcon only cocked his head sideways at her. She sighed. Once the kid was asleep, Hass would shift and join them, and whatever explanation for his sudden appearance could be made in the morning.

It didn't sit right with her, the amount of secrets that had to be kept. She didn't like secrets. She'd been raised on secrets, they'd been the bread she'd been fed and the water that had sustained her. Now, she fought for truth in everything, though even she knew that wasn't always possible. She didn't care if it hurt, or if it scared her, or if it destroyed everything; she wanted to _always _know the truth. Always wanted to _tell_ the truth.

Not possible, of course, to endanger their new companion. If he didn't know she was a princess, didn't know she could summon magic and Light from her hands, didn't know the falcon that perched above them was a royal army soldier, didn't know they were on a wild-goose chase across the O.Z., it wouldn't hurt him. It might actually save him.

She'd found her brush and was running it through her hair, working out the day's tangles when Tory returned, still grumbling. He dropped the armload of dead branches he carried close to the fire, and immediately knelt in the dirt to stack the wood neatly, eyeing Cain warily the whole time.

"So where are we headed?" the kid asked casually.

DG cast a glance toward Cain, who was coming towards them with his own pack. As he walked past Tory, he tossed the kid his sleeping roll. The movement was casual, perhaps even seemingly rude, but Wyatt was looking out for Tory as he'd watched out for her when they'd first met, however begrudgingly _that_ had begun.

"DG here has a meeting to attend in the south," was all Cain said, as he tossed the pack into the exposed root structure of a tree quite near to her. He leaned back upon it as a pillow, and angled his hat over his eyes, the first rest he'd given himself since they'd left Milltown that morning, and she knew it was only because the falcon kept close watch for him.

"Will we get there tomorrow?" Tory asked.

"Sometime near dusk," Cain muttered. "You two had best get some sleep. We start early."

When DG tore her eyes away from Cain's sprawled form, she realized Tory was watching her. "He's right," she said quietly, grabbing her own sleeping roll, barely more than padded wool and canvas but better than the dirt any day. "Keep close to the fire, its going to get cold tonight."

"Isn't it summer here?" the kid asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, but its been really cold lately. I don't know what's up with the weather," she said offhandedly. "Lay down, get some sleep." She nodded towards the sleeping roll Cain had tossed at the boy's feet, as she spread her own out near Wyatt's legs. Though he didn't move, she knew he was still awake and paying attention to every word said. She buttoned her coat to the throat and settled down into her bare-bones canvas sack. Better than nothing... she looked over at Wyatt, lamenting that the military issue rolls weren't big enough for two.

"Isn't someone going to stay awake and watch the fire?" Tory asked.

DG smiled, casting an upwards glance to the falcon standing guard over them. "Oh, I'm sure someone will."

* * *

***

* * *

_She was crawling, and the smooth grass felt good on her bare knees. She'd be scolded when she arrived home for her green-stained knees... if she ever got home._

_She moved a few feet forward slowly, until she found what she was looking for. Oh, was it beautiful. Red, shiny... she reached out and closed her hand around the ripe apple, but as she lifted it, her fingers brushed over something half-hidden by the untended grass. It was cold, compared to the apple she palmed that had been warmed by the suns. Moving her prize to the other hand, she reached out and knocked gently on what she'd found._

Tink, tink.

Huh,_ she thought, intrigued, as she raised up on her knees to knock again, on a metal knee connected to the metal foot in the grass. The sound was hollower, echoed more. She stood straight and found herself staring into the shining silver face of a handsome man made from tin._

"_Its a man," she said slowly, disbelievingly. "A man made out of _tin_!" Somehow this struck her as familiar, pulling at a chord in her heart. She turned around to face her straw companion, who ambled unevenly up the slope she'd crawled up moments before to get her apple. How he'd begun to follow her, to join her on this journey, she didn't know, she didn't question. It just was. _

_They stared in appreciation at the treasure they'd just found – surely such craftsmanship was uncommon! – as they brushed the dirt and grit that had gathered on the shoulders, pulled at vines that had wound around the legs of the tin figure. _

_She gave a knock on the chest, turning her ear to the lonely echo that came from within. And then a different sound – a squeak, fluctuating like a voice trapped. Frowning, she turned to her scarecrow friend._

"_Did he _say_ something?" she asked him, prepared for him to tell her she was crazy. Tin statues didn't talk – just like scarecrows didn't walk. The high-pitched moan came again, and she knew for sure the sound had come through the closed lips of their tin friend; for he was a friend, she knew, somehow deep in her heart. He was._

"_He said 'oil can'," Scarecrow said, touching his gloved hand on the tin man's shoulder, fingers flexing over the corners of the metal frame, as though straw could substitute for bone and tendon. It made sense, bizarre sense... oil to ease rusted joints. The jaw, a separate piece, was frozen in place, which was why he couldn't talk. Oil can, oil can... oil _can_ fix this._

_She looked around. An abandoned cottage sat on the other side of the gleaming road of bricks they had been following when they'd stopped for a snack... scarlet apples hanging heavy from gnarled branches... and yet somehow the apples had ended up here, on the other side of the road, in the grass next to the tin man... had someone thrown them? How fortuitous._

_Finally she spied it, the oil can perched on a stump, within easy reach of unmoving tin arms. Quickly, the jaw was oiled and began to move, and the tin man began to speak. His voice was friendly and calm, and she found herself disappointed at its higher octave. Shouldn't it be lower, deeper?_

"_Year ago... rain, rust. Been that way ever since," he said, moaning between sentences as his other joints were lubricated. Soon he was moving, with stiff squeaks of his metal limbs cutting through the air. _

"_Well," she said, running her fingers along the smoothness of his arms, felt the bumps of the rivets that held his pieces together. After a few more moments, he was well-oiled, and would move without sound now, once they helped him stretch out a bit. "You're perfect now."_

"_Bang on my chest if you think I'm perfect," he said quietly, in his soft voice. _

_Frowning, she looked up to him for permission, surprised and happy to see that his eyes were blue. She raised her hand, and knocked her knuckles against his barrel chest, and heard the most beautiful, empty sound she'd ever heard in her life, singing to her heart like music._

"_Its empty," he said quietly. "The tinsmith forgot to give me a heart."_

_Her eyes filled with tears. "No heart?" She felt a twinge of pain in her chest, as if her own was breaking. A light hand descended on her shoulder, a strange comfort. She looked back to Scarecrow, his warm, dark eyes set in his canvas-sack face were deep, mirroring her sadness. _

"_All hollow, like an empty kettle."_

_A cold wind swept around them, wrapping her an icy fear as her human flesh prickled. Her companions, her friends, stepped closer to her, protectively. Something had changed... what had changed? On the wind it came, so sudden and quick that the transition took them all by surprise as they huddled together._

_Something was wrong. But what... why didn't she _know_?_

"_She's close, too close," Scarecrow said._

Who is too close_, she wanted to ask, but..._

"_You're heading too far South," Tin Woodman said, and his metal hand curled stiff fingers around her arm, somehow warmer than the wind that whipped around her. _

"_I tried to tell her," Scarecrow said with a shake of his head. They were both watching her now. South, she had to head south. She had to find out, she had to know... what exactly was a little unclear, but it would all fall into place, it always did. How she knew that, she didn't know. Why didn't she know? What was wrong with her brain? She was certain she had one, as she cast a glance at her straw-filled friend, wondering if his hat hid his zipper. _

_Zipper?_

"_I'll make sure you get to where you're going, whether I've got a heart or not," Tin Woodman said firmly. He straightened, his voice hinting at pride. "Believe me, heart's got nothing to do with it."_

_Sighing, she looked from one companion, flimsy and scattered, to the other, soldered and unbending. She was beginning to feel that she'd done this before..._

_

* * *

_

***

* * *

When he heard the soft sounds of snoring coming from the kid curled up by the fire, Wyatt Cain removed his hat from over his eyes and sat up. DG was on her side, fast asleep and facing him, her head pillowed on her arm, and a soft smile on her lips. Whatever she was dreaming, it wasn't causing her any grief.

As he stood, the sound of fluttering, and then the strange vacillation of shifting as Hass's feet landed on the ground could be heard over the crackling of the fire. Cain frowned, shaking his head slightly as he walked to the edge of the camp, where Hass stood.

"So what do you think?" the corporal asked him.

Cain looked down at the sleeping kid, took a moment to study the face in the firelight. Tory's cheeks were lightly sprinkled with freckles, and his hair, now uncovered, was standing on end in some places and completely flattened in others. He seemed innocent in sleep, as any child would, though the boy was rapidly coming out of his childhood, would most likely _leave_ his childhood sooner than he'd leave the Zone. This land in which Cain lived had a taste for the clean hands of the young.

"I don't know who he is, or where he came from," Cain said, going through everything that had crossed his mind as he'd feigned slumber. "Says he slipped over. Don't know how he managed to do that without noticing, and he says he remembers nothing."

Hass remained quiet. The sciences that involved crossing the spans between worlds wasn't widely shared, and though he knew the basic mechanics of travel storms, he knew nothing about the natural occurrences in that place called 'the Other Side' that would send someone reeling to this side of the rainbow.

"And you're sure we take him with us to the Realm?" Hass asked.

Cain nodded grimly, casting a sideways glance at his companion, watching as Hass ran a hand through his dark hair. His round, boyish face was lost in thought. "We take him with us, then we escort him to Central City," Cain said, explaining the best laid plan he'd been able to come up with. "Ambrose will know what to do with him. We can't leave him at Finaqua, and we can't turn around now."

"Captain, we know nothing about him," Hass said, as both men now watched the boy sleep.

It wasn't a good enough reason not to help the kid, even his most stoic and careful sensibilities were telling him. It unsettled him that the kid had never once asked for their help, finding himself in the middle of a strange land, coming across friendly strangers, wouldn't it have been the first words out of his mouth... _Could you help me, please?_

_We know nothing about him_... This phrase repeated over and over in Cain's mind. He was frowning again, a permanent placement for his lips, it seemed. More comfortable than smiling, to be sure, but... "We find out," he said simply, glancing back towards DG. "He seems to have taken a shine to her. If anyone gets information out of this kid, it'll be DG."

"So what do we do, then?"

Cain cleared his throat. "We keep an eye on him. A _close_ eye. Listen to what he tells DG. Other than that, we get this over as fast as possible so we can get out of the Realm. I still don't like the idea of headin' down that way."

_But what other choice do we have? _DG's voice rang clear in his mind.

Cain put a hand over his eyes. "Get some sleep, Jeremy. I'll keep watch." Casting a glance from the sleeping princess to the boy curled by the fire, he knew rest wouldn't be finding him any time soon.

* * *

***

* * *

Morning came too soon.

After a breakfast of rations purchased at the general store in Milltown, the group purged their camp site and mounted their horses. Now they were four, and Tory was suspicious of Hass's sudden arrival. "I got a late start," the corporal said, by way of excuse for his appearance. Cain and DG only smiled at him, though the kid looked from face to face, wondering how stupid they all thought he was. However, no more was said on the subject, and by the time they were on the road again, an easy conversation was struck between Hass and Tory, and the two managed to keep each other occupied.

As they were now four, and their horses numbered three, DG put herself out enough to ride with Cain. After the fire had been extinguished and the spot covered, and she pulled herself up to settle behind the Tin Man, her arms wrapped securely around his waist, she caught Tory giving her an inquiring look. She only shrugged her shoulders, pressing her face against Cain's duster; she offered the kid a wink.

Tory's eyebrows shot up in surprise, as he shook his head disbelievingly. She knew it was the age difference that was causing Tory to shake his head, but it didn't bother her. She'd come up against it before, and it had never once mattered. Her heart knew that some things ran deeper than a few years difference. _Maybe more than a few years, _she thought, tightening her arms as Cain turned slightly in the saddle.

"Ready, Princess?" he whispered low; there was the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips, and a thrill went down her spine as she realized he was just as pleased as she that she'd given the boy her horse.

The ride through the woods was quiet and uneventful, though it was dark. The suns were barely able to permeate the thick canopy of interwoven branches coated thick with moss and leaves. The Brick Route was in a worse state of repair than she'd seen anywhere else in the Zone, and it made her sad. She remembered the road from her dreams, each brick carefully laid into place, straight and even and gleaming like gold. What had happened, or were her dreams just that... dreams?

Soon, the trees began to thin out and it was a gradual decline towards the gorge. When the group of four crossed over the single bridge, DG nearly laughed at how easy it was. No safe-house, no zip line, no cover of darkness. The soldiers guarding the bridge, however, posed a problem of their own, as the group came across the first people they'd met since leaving Milltown – minus the kid, of course. She didn't want to use her magic in front of Tory if it could be helped, perhaps some of Cain's caution was catching. So instead there was an awkward moment as she jammed her cloche hat on her head and turned up the collar of her coat. The toll was paid, and they continued on without trouble – though the suspicious looks from the kid kept on coming.

The Brick Route was one of two roads that led to Finaqua, the second of which lay to the west, out of the way and secluded, the path that had been travelled their first journey south before the Eclipse. Now, they rested when they came to a junction, the Old Road heading directly south, and a second, barely more than a beaten trail, that veered off and headed southeast. DG knew it was along this southeastern road that Cain had been reunited with his son, as he'd been transported as a prisoner from the Realm of the Unwanted. It wasn't far from this juncture, and they'd be there soon.

As brave as she'd felt in Milltown, making the decision to travel to the Realm to visit the Reader, she wasn't sure that it was going to hold. It was the dull, wooden echo of the bridge that had begun the questioning in her mind and the faltering of her courage. The gap of doubt had only grown the farther they'd gone.

Leaning against a tree now, watching as Hass and Tory argued amiably over Rock, Paper, Scissors, she tried to remember where her gumption had come from when she'd stormed the Witch's Tower an annual before. But as Cain came to her side, leaned his back against the tree as she was doing now, keeping his eyes on the road and not on her, she remembered very clearly.

_Oh yeah, I wasn't alone,_ she thought, _and I'm not alone now. There's no reason to worry, girl. Get a grip!_

Too bad there didn't seem to be a grip to be had. Turning towards Cain, she reached out for purchase, taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his, the barest contact but a sure and steady anchor. The tips of his ears turned slightly pink at her display of affection.

"Will we make it in time?" she asked him, trying to distract him from her touch.

Clearing his throat, he nodded, still watching the road, eyes flicking from the direction they'd come to the brick-way that ambled slowly towards Finaqua. "Plenty of time. We'll get you to Cynthia's Parlour around midnight."

DG frowned. "Midnight?" It seemed strange. She'd thought she'd be seeing the Reader the next morning. When Cain nodded, pursing his lips together in an unhappy line, she could almost see the deluge of words that was piling up behind them, unspoken. "What is it?" she asked, not liking it one bit when his blue eyes finally cast down on her, cloudy and unsure. Gone was the steadiness that she was so used to seeing, the unwavering stoicism she normally braced herself against. "Wyatt," she said softly when he still didn't speak. She tightened her grip on his hand, squeezing his large fingers.

The motion seemed to have its intended effect. Cain's lips parted, his eyes searching hers now. "I don't like the idea of takin' you in to see this woman," he said slowly, but very firmly. "You might find the answer you're lookin' for, Darlin', but the cost is –"

Flaring in anger, she interrupted him. "Why does no one want me to go see this woman?" she demanded, raising her voice. Both Hass and Tory looked up, mid-fist shake, to stare at her. "You told me the danger, and I don't care! But still you insist that its a bad idea. So, what is no one telling me?"

Cain sighed, and extracted his hand from her hold to run it over his face. The tips of his ears were turning pinker, beginning to envy red. DG's shoulder's fell; she turned to Hass, her hands out in a gesture that demanded _'Well?'_

"Can I just _tell_ her?" Hass asked, smirking with amusement at DG's frustration. The kid's head was snapping back and forth as he searched the faces of his companions, from DG's mask of anger to Wyatt's half hidden by his hat, to the smirking corporal.

Cain gave a mumbled "Go ahead," in response to Hass, and DG's head whipped so fast to look at the corporal that her neck cracked. Cain reached for her hand, as she had reached for his, and despite wanting to, she didn't bat his fingers away, and let him take her hand.

"Its a brothel," Hass said shamelessly. "And the Reader is the madame."

DG's jaw dropped as she fell heavily back against the tree. _That_, she had not been expecting. The silence that followed was broken by Tory letting out a long, low whistle. Quickly, Cain was leaning into her, his face next to her ear.

"The price is an annual's servitude, Deeg, princess or not," he repeated before backing away. His stormy eyes were as close to pleading as she'd ever seen him. She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat that didn't seem to want to go away, and tried to return his gaze steadily with her own eyes, but she could already feel tears coming. Why tears? She shook her head, realizing she was holding Cain's hand so tight her fingers were beginning to cramp. Though she released the death-grip, she didn't let go of him, and he held her fast, that simple contact of their hands.

Her mind was working as she searched the weathered face she held so dear. His frown read protectiveness, his eyes read worry, his shortened breathing read disagreement.

Her heart had been set, despite whatever lack of courage she'd felt, but now her heart was balking. How did this new information change things... not much, was her only conclusion. She had no other option when they'd left Milltown, how was now any different?

"We can't turn around now," she said firmly.

"Fair enough," came Cain's only response to her and her alone, before calling out an order for the other two to mount. "We can make it to the Realm before dark if we hurry." He didn't let go of her hand until he was helping her into the saddle, and then climbing up behind her, sheltering her in the protective circle of his embrace. If the arm that slung around her waist held her too tight, if the grip on her hip was too possessive, she didn't notice or care. It was exactly where she needed to be as she tried to work out her strategy as the group left the safe, beaconed path of the Old Road and headed away, towards more dangerous territory.

* * *

***

* * *

The road ended abruptly in a wide open meadow, one that DG recognized well, though she'd come to it from a different direction the last time. But, instead of taking them across to search for the in-ground entrance to the Realm, Cain skirted the field, entering the forest once again. The group dismounted, and led their horses down into a deep gully with high dirt walls. Tree roots stuck out over top of them, covered in moss and obstructing the view of the sky and forest above. Another abrupt end, this time in a stout wooden door. Another hidden entrance.

DG smiled at Cain, impressed. His only response was, "What, do ya think we went up the ladder shackled to a log?"

But as he and Hass stepped forward to heave open the massive door, DG's heart gave a painful twist. When a dark tunnel on a downward slope was revealed, her heart seemed to stop all together. Mouth dry, nerves twinging, feet rooted to the ground, she stared at the dark hole she was expected to walk blindly into, and found it suddenly very hard. Unable to move forward or back, she felt Tory brush by her, the horse he led nearly knocking her off her feet when she refused to step out of the way.

"DG?" Cain's voice called to her. Handing the reins he held to the corporal, he made his way back up the incline towards DG. When he reached her, a steady hand was placed on her arm. "You okay?"

She stuttered out an answer. "I... I forgot."

He raised a scarred eyebrow, confused. "Forgot what?"

_Deep, dark... down, down... in the ground, away from the suns... no light, only cold, metal and cement, locked doors and black eyes, rough hands and pebbled skin, and alone, so alone..._

She shrugged away the thoughts. Foolish, she was being foolish. But... "Underground," was all she could say in defence of herself. She'd forgotten the Realm was underneath the surface of earth, just as the Commander's base had been.

It took Cain a moment to realize what she meant, though once his blue eyes slid into the clarity of understanding, they held nothing but love and comfort. "Its okay," he told her, "No one's holdin' you prisoner down here. We go in and we're out by tomorrow mornin'. You go in willingly and come out when _you_ say, Sweetheart."

She took a deep breath and nodded. When she looked up at him, she tried to smile, but only managed a watery spreading of her lips, barely a gesture at all. "In and out," she said, wanting to feel brave but only feeling like an idiot. Cain offered her a smile that seemed to strengthen her own. He placed a warm kiss on her forehead, and kept his hand on his arm until she'd taken a few steps before giving her flesh a comforting squeeze and walking back to take the lead.

Her steps were a little more sure as she passed through the door and into the tunnel. Once the door had been shoved closed again, she realized it wasn't completely dark, that torches lit the path down and down and down, around a bend to where she could not see.

In and out, like breathing. _Just breathe,_ she told herself, as she followed the men and the horses. _This may be a sort of prison, but its not _your_ prison and no one will hold you here. In and out... Cain will find us a safe place to rest, I'll go see the Reader, and we can leave... in and out... _

Lodging for their animals was expensive, near the archway of the tunnel as they came out into the Realm properly. It was a strange fact, that the more you paid a person, the more trustworthy they became.

The Realm itself was loud, busy, and crowded. People bumped against her, and someone made a grab for her bottom as she followed closely behind Cain, hat shoved down to hide her face once again, though luckily Cain didn't notice the grabby jerk who'd passed by them. The scene it would have caused, however, kept her mind off the fact that they were underground.

After almost an hour of wandering through the ridiculous expanse of the Realm, Cain found them a place to stay for the night, a single cramped room with a bathroom DG cleaned thoroughly before she'd let anyone touch anything.

Hass raised an eyebrow at her once she'd finished. Brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, she grinned at him. "That isn't anything compared to a truck stop bathroom, trust me."

The corporal's hands went up in supplication, to show he was not arguing.

After washing up, Cain shrugged his arms back into his duster and pulled his hat down low over his eyes. "Stay here and keep an eye on these two," he told Hass as he nodded towards the princess and the kid. DG, used to such orders, ignored him as she rummaged through her bag for some soap, but the indignant cluck from Tory caused her to look up. "I'll be back, I've gotta go around, get some information." He took his revolver from its holster, checked to make sure the chambers were loaded.

"We won't go anywhere," DG assured the Tin Man as she shot a firm look at the boy, who was now sitting back in a rickety chair, pouting at being told to stay put. During their hour of searching, Cain had finally had to grab the kid by the collar and drag him away from a glass-fronted booth to curb his curiosity. The booth itself was too familiar to DG for comfort, though the woman sitting inside was different, blonde and dressed in the flowing robes of royalty. DG had wondered absently about whatever had happened to Airofday, before coming to the conclusion that she didn't care.

As Cain left the three alone, and the door was doubly bolted shut behind him, DG collapsed on the bed as Tory took his turn in the bathroom. Rolling onto her stomach, her gaze settled on Hass as he stretched his lanky frame out into the chair the kid had vacated.

"You coulda told me it was a brothel," DG said, trying her best not to sound accusing.

The sound that came out of Hass's mouth was disbelieving. "Pfft, are you kidding me? The captain would've shot me if I had. You know, I've never met anyone who could shut a person up with just a look, and I was with the Resistance for a few annuals before it became the AR, but Wyatt Cain..." The corporal gave in involuntary shudder.

DG giggled, glad that Hass was able to lighten the mood considerably, and so quickly.

"And that's not to mention what Cor is gonna do to me when she finds out I had anything to do with bringing you down here," Hass said, shaking his head with a laugh. "It won't matter that it was your idea."

Hass's wife, whom DG had met on a few occasions, was a strong woman, though not the type of hard, lifeless woman the Resistance had seemed to turn their females into. Lively and sweet, DG found her quite easy to get along with, but could also see very clearly how her husband could be worried about making her angry.

"Well, once tonight is over with, we can get back up to the surface and no one will ever need to know we were here," she said softly, sitting up to stare out the window. Below them, a busy street carried on as if no one ever slept, as if time had no meaning. The moment of curiosity had turned into a moment to dread, but there was no turning back. There was no other choice.

No one could tell her what was going to happen. She would sit down before Cynthia, the _Reader_, and the woman would lay out her price, on her terms, whatever she deemed fit. Whether or not DG chose to accept was her choice and hers alone. She knew there was a chance the fee would not be as Cain suggested. After all, Azkadellia had not mentioned any fare at all, although who in their right mind would have charged the Sorceress for anything?

She'd negotiated herself out of more than a few speeding tickets during her time in Kansas, except when it was handed to her by Deputy Gulch... after a while, she'd just stopped trying with that man, had smiled, nodded, and accepted. He'd had it out for her, that one...

Eyes still on the window, she vowed that would not be the case when she stood before the Reader.

_How do I shatter the power of the Emerald of the Eclipse?_

The answer was just a question away.

* * *

_Author's Note II: This chapter took me by complete surprise. We've hit 100 pages - and we're about 1/3 of the way through... but lets face it, we know how I outline. Had the day from HELL today, a review in my inbox sure would help soothe my nerves. :)_


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_Author's Note: The _**CAST PAGE**_ was updated again, to include Cynthia, the Reader. Go check it out, direct links on my profile page! _

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**Chapter Fourteen**

It was near eight o'clock, and DG lay resting on the bed, head pillowed on her arms. On the floor beside the bed, Hass and Tory sat with a deck of cards between them. The game of Blackjack was just beginning to get interesting, crossing over with Double Dare, as Tory had nothing but a pocketful of Other Side change and Hass didn't know what to make of the strange coins.

The corporal was holding up a Roosevelt dime and studying the profile on it when there was a sharp knock on the door, one that DG recognised all too well. She left the two boys to their game, hopped off the bed, and crossed the room to unbolt and open the door. The moment she had, Cain was growling at her.

"Get your shoes," he said curtly.

DG frowned. "Why? Where are we going?" she asked, knowing it was too early to head to the Reader's Parlour.

"You're gonna need a dress. We've gotta go scrounge one up for you."

"Oh." Her heart sank. A dress. It only made sense, but still... she hadn't thought, when she'd packed and repacked her rucksack in preparation for this trip, that she would be needing a dress at all. "Okay," she said with a resigned sigh. She hurried across the small room to pull her sneakers out from underneath the bed. She realized that she was probably going to need shoes, too, unless they found a dress that matched her worn ones, which she knew was highly unlikely. She put her beat-up sneakers on her feet and put on her coat, following Cain out into the hallway. When the door was shut and securely bolted, he led her down the stairs and out into an alley, completely empty but for them, though the street onto which the alley opened was bursting with loud, rapacious life.

"You'd best be puttin' up a disguise," he told her, though he didn't sound happy at the idea. "Don't want anyone recognizin' you while you're down here."

DG frowned, but complied. When she felt the magic settle firmly into place, she turned to face him, giving him a moment to memorize her appearance, so he wouldn't lose her in the crowd. "How do I look?" she couldn't help but ask, trying to sound playful.

Cain nodded absently at her. "Just fine, now lets get a move on."

When he turned away from her, DG realized she'd had quite enough. She wasn't sure how she'd come to that conclusion, but she'd come to it nonetheless. Sneaking a quick peek around to make sure they were completely alone – and they were – she raised her hand and used her magic to haul Cain back two steps and shove him hard against the damp brick wall they stood next to.

"Hey," he growled, surprised, when he found he couldn't move. DG held her hand up, the soft, faint glow of white light around her palm showing the strain of what she was doing – using her magic against Cain wasn't something she did very often – if ever – and it was more her conscience than her magical stamina that was causing the problem. Steadying herself, she stared hard at him.

"What's your problem, Cain?" she demanded.

The Tin Man sighed, looking down at the small slip of a girl who had him pressed against a wall and completely at her mercy. "Problem?" he reiterated, his lips curling up in a teasing smirk.

DG released him, letting the magic go with a sigh of relief, and Cain relaxed against the wall, not moving, as he realized that was where she wanted him. He watched her carefully as she worded her question in her mind. "Why," she began, "didn't you tell me about the _brothel_? I mean, that's a pretty big piece of information to leave out, don't you think?"

"Trust me, Darlin'," he told her, "I'd been arguin' with myself for two days on how to tell you."

"You can't protect me from this kind of thing."

Cain snorted. "I can sure as hell try," he mumbled.

DG felt herself deflate a little at his protectiveness, realizing that a miscommunication was the only problem to be had. "Wyatt," she said softly. "I don't know what girls are like on this side. I really don't, although I've gotten the idea that I'm not like most of them." Cain's smirk almost turned into a smile, and it encouraged her. "They've got brothels in Central City, _and _on the Other Side – maybe not where I grew up, but that doesn't stop you from knowing about things like that. There aren't any restrictions on the type of information children learn as they grow older."

"A whorehouse in Central City ain't gonna demand an annual of slavery for services rendered, Princess," Cain grumbled. He reached for her, and pulled her against him; it crossed her mind to fight away from him, but the moment her chest pressed against his, she settled into his embrace, cursing herself the whole while. "I'm just finally gettin' you all to myself now," he continued, "and you're a fool if you think I'm gonna let you walk in and lay down yourself as payment just to get this gem destroyed."

DG nodded her understanding, and opened her mouth to speak, but Cain wasn't finished. "I'm beginnin' to think there is more to this than just the Emerald tyin' the Gale's spirit to the O.Z.," he said slowly. "This has somethin' to do with the Longcoats in the Southeast, and we're gonna figure out what that is. I haven't kept quiet about the fact that I don't think you're gonna find what you're lookin' for tonight."

Breathing in the familiar scent of his skin, of his clothes, DG let her eyes fall closed for a moment. There was a chance she wasn't going to get the answer she was looking for, it was true enough. But she had to try; her life in the last year was full of instances where failure was imminent, but she'd still _tried_... and succeeded, against all odds. Hadn't she and Cain left each other on the hill, before storming the Tower, thinking the other was likely to die before the Eclipse was over? He'd been shot and she was thrown off a balcony, but they had made it, because they were both too stubborn to stop.

"We have to try," she said, finishing her thought vocally. "And I –" She pulled back to look up into his face, knowing that he was seeing someone different but holding _her_, "– I promise I won't 'lay myself down as payment'. I do have _some_ self-respect, thank you."

Cain chuckled. "Lets go get this shoppin' trip over with," he said, kissing her quickly before releasing her and pushing himself away from the wall.

Following quietly behind him, DG smirked to herself every time his arm shot out to stop someone from bumping into her. They walked a few blocks until they came to stop in front of a little shop with front windows painted over in black.

"Charming," DG muttered, looking up at it. Cain only frowned at her; she held up her hands in surrender. "Hey, you probably know as much about dress shopping as I do," she told him, and he almost cracked a smile as he held open the door for her, and they both entered the shop.

Inside was dark, musty, and quiet. A few flimsy racks held dresses on padded hangers, and along one wall, three mannequins modelled fashion in grotesque human mockery. DG felt a strange chill; she noticed Cain's discomfort as well, as he drew his duster back to keep his hand firm on the polished grip of his revolver.

"You can keep that thing holstered or get out of my shop!" came a voice out of nowhere. DG whirled around to see a woman coming out of a back room, a few dresses slung over her arm. "You look to be about a five," she said to DG.

DG's eyebrows shot up in surprise; she stayed huddled near Cain as the woman flitted about the shop, putting away the dresses she held, and grabbing new ones. The proprietor shoved an armload of tulle and taffeta and satin at her.

"These should fit," she said, pointing to a small alcove with a curtain stretched across. "You can try them on in there."

"Um, thanks," DG replied, shooting Cain a quizzical look. The proprietor held back the curtain for DG and she ducked inside the small change room.

The full length mirror in the change room was cracked straight down the middle, and the moment she turned to face it, she let out a startled cry at the sight of green light swimming lazily behind the glass.

"You okay?" Cain asked her from the other side of the curtain.

"Oh... yeah," she said slowly, as she reached out to touch the dirty glass. The light immediately snaked towards her finger, stretching out thin to do so. Frowning, she ran her finger back and forth a few times, watching as the ribbon of light skimmed along the surface of the mirror, following her every movement. When she took her finger away from the glass, the light waited expectantly for her, barely moving.

After ten minutes of stripping and redressing, DG decided on a pale blue flapper dress that fell to her knees. There was no beading, though the intricate embroidery scrolled across the dress reminded her of a sky with sweeping white clouds. When she checked the label for a price, she was surprised to see it read 'Chanel'. She took it as a good sign. When she left the tiny alcove, she checked the mirror once for the light; it remained, and it twinkled encouragingly at her before disappearing. With a sigh, DG rejoined Cain.

"The light is back," was all she told him when he noticed her unhappy expression.

The proprietor of the shop was waiting for her with a pair of silver slippers that matched the dress, ones that fit her feet perfectly. Too used to life in the O.Z. to question this fact, DG thanked the kind, eccentric woman profusely as she paid a ridiculously small amount for her purchases – at least in her mind, as she wondered what a vintage Chanel might cost on the Other Side. She and Cain left the shop together, out into the cool air of the underground city. It didn't bother her so much, as long as she tried not to think about it, as long as she didn't look up to see the root structure tangled across the ceiling a few stories above her head.

Back at the rented room, DG dropped her disguise before Cain knocked hard on the door. After letting DG and Cain back into the room, Tory returned to his seat on the bed. His knit cap was back on his head, covering hair that looked slightly damp from a shower; he was thumbing through what DG recognised as a prayer book. Hass had kicked off his shoes and was napping, sitting up in a chair and his feet propped up on a second

DG sat down on the edge of the bed, toeing off her sneakers, and bumping them underneath the bed with her feet. "Its a little different than the Bible," she told the teenager, with a nod towards the book he read. As Cain went into the bathroom to shower quickly, DG leaned a little closer to the kid. "But you'd be surprised at how much of it is the same. Do unto others, don't murder or steal... all that fun stuff."

The kid shot her a cynical look. "So you really lived on... on _my _side?" he asked.

"For fifteen years," she affirmed with a nod.

"Annuals. They say annuals here, don't they?" Tory cast a look at the sleeping corporal, as if the one person could comprise an entire nation and its people, or even an entire _world_.

DG only shrugged. "I still say 'years', but yeah. Annuals, same difference."

There was silence then, and DG listened to the pipes groan in the other room as the shower started. The thought of who was standing in it sent her brain on a distinctly fast trip to the gutter, and she couldn't help but grin. When she looked up, the kid was shaking his head at her in dismay, and she felt herself blush.

"So can I ask you a question?" Tory inquired quietly.

DG laughed. "Another one? You're just full of questions." But she immediately fell contrite, as she remembered her first day, week, month in the O.Z. Everything had ended in a question and subsequent explanation, and reminded herself to be more patient. "Okay, shoot," she encouraged.

"So... this book," Tory said, as he closed the prayer book and laid it down on the bed between them. "All the prayers are to different gods and patrons."

DG nodded. "Yeah, the gods are like... God, except there are three of them. Patrons are the same as saints."

Tory shot her a look that told her he'd already figured that out. "Well, there is a prayer in here to a human chick," he said, and when DG raised her eyebrows at him disapprovingly, he immediately added, "I mean, a young woman."

DG heaved a sigh, looking down at the prayer book. "Yeah," she said, knowing instantly to which he referred. "Its a prayer for those who are lost and alone. The young woman was the daughter of an old king. She disappeared without a trace, and she was never found or heard from again. She's referred to as the Child of the Zone, because the old king made a law that no one was allowed to speak her name, because it would cause him too much grief. And then, eventually, people forgot her name."

Tory nodded slowly, as if he understood, as he mumbled something that sounded like _'She who must not be named'_, which made her laugh. He picked the book back up and began turning pages once again, his curiosity sated for the moment.

DG sighed. The fact she'd shared with the kid was one she'd learned in her studying, though the reason for her particular research was a little more personal that her usual quest to discover what she could about her new home. She had learned about the daughter of King Pastor, the ruler of the Zone before the appearance of Dorothy Gale, through mere happenstance, gaining the knowledge only through a thirst to know all she could about the ancestor she was trying to help by destroying the Emerald. Dorothy had ruled in the place of the disappeared princess, the end of one noble line and the beginning of another... DG's own.

A grunt from the other side of the room brought DG out of her reverie. Hass was stretching and yawning, finally awake. He looked surprised that he'd slept through the arrival of the princess. "Hey," he said in greeting with a tired smile. "Did you find what you went looking for?"

DG frowned as she was abruptly brought back to her upcoming task, feeling like her entire body had just come to a crashing halt. She guessed it was nearly nine-thirty, and she felt suddenly sick with herself at what she was about to try and accomplish.

* * *

***

* * *

Azkadellia dreaded the night.

She spent the evening in conference with the her advisors. She was tired, and felt stretched too thin. Hot cramps burned low in her womb, the reminder that was slowly fading with each passing day; the third day since the miscarriage was drawing to a close, and it was all she could do to stop herself laying her head down on the table and falling asleep. To hell with the Reconstruction, to hell with trade policy with Ev, and to _hell_ with foreign diplomats appearing out of the woodwork to speak to her about the sons of their monarchs. She'd heard 'a quick word' about more princes in the last two days than she'd known existed in the outlying lands.

_Sleep,_ her brain was moaning, wailing like a 'zombie' DG had once imitated for her. Her advisors showed no signs of relenting simply because of her disinterest, however. She sat at a desk as the five advisors faced her, each vying for her attention, shoving at her forms, requisitions, and correspondence. A sixth advisor sat near the opposite end of the room, one gangly leg up and resting on the opposite knee, fingers templed and pressed to his lips. He waited in quiet contemplation for the other hens to finish their clucking.

"Your Majesty, these equipment requisitions from General Marsh require your signature," said one advisor whose name escaped her; in fact, to her great shame, the only name she knew was that of the man waiting for her at the other end of the room. Of all his counterparts, she could name none.

"These trade contracts will need to be approved, Majesty."

"The ambassador of neighbouring Ix is requesting an audience."

"The honours ceremony is tomorrow, Majesty, for the alchemist who created the antiserum to Papay venom, and you have yet to –"

"But the Papay aren't biting people anymore," Ambrose piped up from behind the group of men that stood before the Queen's desk.

Azkadellia almost smiled, the ghost of it playing on her lips. Yes, the troops in the South needed rations and blankets. Yes, the export of moretanium was feeding their recovering economy. Yes, negotiations must be upheld with Ix and _yes,_ the alchemist needed his recognition, but... she just didn't care. Not at that moment, at any rate, no matter how terrible of a ruler it made her.

"These will be the last orders of business, gentlemen," Azkadellia said firmly. In quick succession, she signed the requisitions, scanned and approved the contracts, and made notes for her chamberlain to contact the Ixian ambassador and to set up a private meeting with the alchemist after the ceremony. Closing the drawers of her desk, Azkadellia stood, her hands on the sturdy wood to balance herself.

"You are dismissed," she said. The advisors looked at each other, one to the next, probably wondering which one was going to bring up the stack of documents that still needed to be looked over, business that needed to be dealt with. But the world was not coming to an end, and no enemies were knocking on their doors. The trouble in the South was still speculation. Everything could wait until the morning, and all the Queen of the O.Z. could think about was her bed.

Ambrose lagged behind as the others left, as he usually did. It was becoming habit for him to escort her from place to place, even if it conflicted with his own schedule. While she appreciated his concern, it unnerved her. She knew, somehow, that her sister must be behind it, and the tiny silver line of a scar that peeked out of his hairline in the middle of his forehead was always a massive unspoken truth, a proverbial elephant.

"Majesty," Ambrose said, and Azkadellia immediately held up a hand.

"No," she said. "No more tonight. Az or not at all, Ambrose."

The advisor nodded in understanding. "Az," he said slowly. "The professor has indicated he'd like to see you again in the morning."

Azkadellia frowned. Her appointments with the professor were becoming a daily chore. She hated the old man, the infirmary level with its medicinal smell, and the curious looks of staff about the palace as they wondered why their Queen needed to see her physician every day. The gossip would be starting soon, no doubt, though she was certain that none of it would even come close to the truth. So far, all Professor Lyman had been able to do was give her something every night to help her sleep.

"I don't want to talk about the professor," was Azkadellia's only response. She gathered up the books and papers that needed to accompany her, and walked briskly out of the office, opening the door for herself. She left Ambrose behind, though he was following her in a flash, his long stride overtaking hers in her slim skirt quickly.

Silence followed her from her office to her bedchamber, but for the sound of her feet and those of her guards and the advisor. Using her magic, she opened the door to her suite and slipped through, slamming them closed behind her, her mind on her bed and her bed only. But Ambrose was too quick, and he managed to jump inside the room before the doors shut tight behind him.

"What is it, Ambrose?" she asked him impatiently, but not unkindly.

"Maj- I mean, Azkadellia," he said, and offered her a contrite smile. "There is still the matter of the Harvest Ball next week."

Az looked up from putting her stack of books on a side table. "What about the ball?"

Ambrose looked distinctly uncomfortable, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Ambrose was never one to struggle with his words, and she gave him a well-practiced hard look to get him talking.

"Well," he said, stammering. "There is – that is to say... well..."

"Say it or get out, Ambrose," she warned. She was past subtlety, and she was nearly past being able to stand on her own to feet. She could almost hear the bed calling her name... and the bed had Jeb's voice. Damn.

"Its your next formal event," he said slowly, and very carefully. "And please understand that my only concern is your well-being, Majesty, but I worry that... well, there might be a certain individual in attendance... in light of your current... _personal..._" He trailed off, his hands lifting and falling once uselessly as he realized he didn't know how to finish his sentence. But Azkadellia had most clearly understood his point.

She studied Ambrose for a moment, as he looked at his feet. After an annual of freedom from possession, Azkadellia still had a hard time believing that anyone truly watched out for her well-being. Jeb had, of course, though very begrudgingly at first – their first meeting in the Commander's fortress, she remembered too well the smell and feel of the place and involuntarily, she shivered – but apart from her family, she had never felt anyone's concern to be honest. Ambrose, however...

"Ambrose," she said slowly, and then a small smile made its way unbidden onto her lips. "Glitch," she said immediately after, and his eyes rose to meet hers. "I appreciate your consideration, I really do," she told him, hoping she sounded sincere. "But... there is no need for it. He... _he_ will not be at the Harvest Ball. Nor any other event."

Ambrose cleared his throat. "I only ask because –"

Azkadellia held up a hand. "It doesn't matter," she said firmly. "I don't wish to discuss the subject further. I don't want it brought up again, either. He is no one in Central City, and no one that you need worry about. Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly, Your Majesty," Ambrose said, and he gave a bow. Though he tried to wipe the sad expression off his face, it remained in his eyes, and it began to make her uncomfortable. The most intelligent man she'd ever met, her reverence for him as a child as her mother's advisor hadn't dimmed in the last annual, when he'd become _her_ First Advisor. As he excused himself, and left her alone, she wondered – worried – that perhaps he might deduce her secret.

_It doesn't matter now, silly,_ she chastised herself, as she undressed. She hadn't had a ladies' maid attend her since the night it had happened, so the process was slow and difficult. She wanted no help, however, and only wanted to be alone. Shimmying out of her dress and magicking herself out of her corset, her thoughts shifted between her sister and Jeb. Reports from General Andrus were tucked inside one of the books she'd carried upstairs, informing her that the lieutenant had taken the mission into the Black Forest, and had departed the morning before, and there was no knowing when, or if, Jeb's next contact would come.

Crawling into bed, and turning off the lights with a snap of her fingers, she couldn't shake him from her mind. Weeks prior, she'd imagined laying in this bed with Jeb, the sheets tangled from lovemaking. When she'd realized her courses conspicuously missing, and what that inevitably meant, she'd been happy. Anxious, but happy. She'd pictured in her mind telling him, the smile that would have spread across his face. She would have convinced him that there was no shame in their love, that they didn't have to hide... after all, the branches of even the most noble houses of the O.Z. sometimes had a tendency to intertwine.

Now, alone in the darkness, she was unsure. Unsure that he would have smiled, that he would have accepted any proposal she offered. But now, it didn't matter. All she wanted was for him to come home to her alive.

Arms aching for him, and her lips unkissed, the Queen of the O.Z. fell into troubled dreams.

* * *

***

* * *

"What do you mean I don't get to go?"

Cain was looking at the kid as if he were crazy to argue, the same raised eyebrow and unimpressed smirk that DG had known for so long. She was trying to hide her smile behind her hand, but her shoulders were starting to shake with the giggles she was hard-pressed to swallow back.

"It ain't a place for a kid," Cain said firmly.

"I'm not a kid!" Tory exclaimed. "And what about her? It doesn't sound like a place for a lady, either."

_Point well taken_, DG thought, finally letting out a laugh as Cain sighed heavily. She reached out to touch the Tin Man's arm before the kid caused him any more grief, and when he turned to look at her, she whispered to him, _Please, just let me deal with him, okay?_

Cain frowned, nodded, and turned away from her, shifting impatiently.

"Trust me, Tory, I'm no lady," she told the teen with a grin and a wink. "We're not going to be that long, so don't worry. And we'll head straight for Central City in the morning, and get you home. That's good, right?"

Tory shrugged his shoulders non-committally. "What have you got to do in a red-light district, anyway? I mean, you guys don't look like red-light material. Especially Captain Uptight over here," he said, jerking his chin towards Cain. DG was the only one that heard the low growl escape from Wyatt's throat, and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from laughing again.

"There's a woman I have to meet with," DG said. "Its just my bad luck that she lives down here is all."

Tory nodded slowly, not trying to mask his disbelief. "Okay, well," he said, with a very 'its your funeral' tone, "just don't drink the Kool-Aid." He nodded once again to affirm the soundest advice he could come up with.

DG smiled at him appreciatively, before turning to Cain once again. "Lets go, Wyatt," she said. "The sooner we do this, the sooner we can leave the Realm."

Cain turned to her, agreement written on his face. "Don't let him leave," he said to Hass, as he nodded at Tory.

If it were possible, Tory looked even more put-out and horrified than he had when he'd been told he wouldn't be joining their foray deeper into the Realm. "I don't need a babysitter!" he exclaimed, with more attitude than even she had ever given Cain.

DG snickered. "Yeah, good luck with _that_ argument," she told him as Cain opened the door for her.

"You kids be good now," Hass spoke up from his seat by the window. Though DG didn't catch the patronizing look Cain shot the corporal, she did notice that Hass looked just as unhappy as Cain at what was about to take place. Trying to put her dark thoughts out of her mind, she followed Cain out into the hallway, the sound of the locks sliding into place behind them giving her a chill. After making sure she had a glamour in place, he led her out into the cold night.

The streets were at the high-point of their night-life as DG and Cain set out into the Realm. With too much push and shove among the people on the overcrowded street, Cain kept an arm tight around her, and though she felt it was too much when they left the building in which they were staying, she was glad for it after only a few minutes in the crowd. She clung to him as he navigated the way to the Reader's Parlour.

The forty-five minute walk had her feet aching in the stiff slippers the proprietor of the dress shop had sold her, reminding her too much of the too-small flats she'd trekked to the Gale tomb in a year before. Everything about this night was giving her a bad feeling, and every time she looked up at Cain, and saw the unsettled look in his blue eyes, she knew he felt the same way.

After what had felt like forever, he turned them into an alley that was less crowded, and a short walk later, the alley opened up into a square lined with buildings that all looked alike – white marble faced, thick pillars underneath ornate balconies, a great fountain set in the very middle. The statue in the center of the fountain was of two lovers clearly in the throes of passion – it made DG blush to look at it. Cain said nothing, but she caught him eyeing it warily as they passed.

Though on first glance not one building had stood out from any other, DG soon realized that the one they were heading towards was different. It towered higher, almost to the rooted ceiling, and the stone pillars were carved with ivy and flowers. As they came closer, the minute details of the pillars surprised her – the ivy leaves looked soft to the touch, the flower petals lush enough to eat. DG felt immediately calm, and then instantaneously suspicious of her change in mood. Something wasn't right... or perhaps there was a magic about the place, purposefully causing her to feel light and trusting.

_Ohh, we're in trouble._

The doors opened, seemingly on their own, when DG and Cain approached, but as they entered the building, she noticed two guards standing on the inside, flanking the entrance. Their uniforms were much more elegant than those of the palace guards in Central City, and the deeper into the building they went, the more DG felt like a country mouse, no matter that she was truly a princess and lived in a towering palace. Such a display of wealth she'd never seen in her life. The walls were covered in silky fabric, the oil paintings hanging on the walls were similar to the fountain outside, and after the first two, DG stopped looking at them, ignoring her artist's curiosity as a certain prudishness set in at the sight of so many naked, sprawling figures.

She reached for Cain's hand and squeezed it hard, glad for the strength he gave her when he squeezed her fingers back.

A maid appeared, wearing a slinky, barely-there uniform; made of the reddest lace DG had ever seen, it covered her breasts, her sex, and little else, both cheeks of her bottom exposed for all to see. DG didn't think her face could turn redder than the girl's uniform, but she was sure her face was making an attempt.

"My name is Alessia. Is there anything I can do to help you?" the maid asked pleasantly, as if she weren't dressed in tiny lingerie.

Cain cleared his throat. "This girl is here to see Cynthia," he said, jerking a thumb at DG.

Alessia smiled, giving Cain a good look-over before turning to DG; the princess was sure the maid before her didn't have men looking her in the eye very often, as Cain had, and she felt a swell of pride at the Tin Man who was all hers.

"Well, then, if you'll follow me," Alessia said in a very business like manner. "Sir, if you please, wait here and I will be back to escort you to a chamber where you may rest and eat."

"What? No," DG said firmly. "He comes with me."

Alessia shook her head. "No, Miss, I'm sorry, but he cannot go with you, unless he, too, is here to see the Reader."

Cain grunted disapprovingly. "That I'm surely not," he told the maid, before turning to DG. Ignoring the girl that waited patiently beside them, he lifted a hand to her face, brushing a thumb quickly, heavily across her cheek. "I'll be waitin' for when you're done, and we'll get outta here. Together," he whispered. His eyes lowered to her lips for a minute, and she felt a painful yearning for his kiss, but instead, he dropped his hand and backed away. "Good luck, Darlin'."

DG's eyebrows perked in disbelief as he stepped back. "Wyatt?" she asked him, uncertain, but he only nodded at her, his blue eyes saying more to her than his mouth could in current company.

Trying to stop her lip from trembling, DG turned away from him and towards the maid who waited. "All right," she said. "Lead the way."

Alessia smiled brightly, and held out a hand for DG. When DG made no move, the maid jerked her fingers slightly, and with a complying sigh, DG took the girl's hand. She allowed Alessia to lead her from the room, through a set of beautifully carved wooden doors. Casting one last look over her shoulder, she saw Cain looking down at the floor, both hands gripping his belt. He didn't see her look back.

The room she was led to was lined with sofas, each covered in gigantic throw pillows coloured in deep red, purple, and black. A white door was set at the opposite end of the room, and DG was certain behind it was the Reader's Parlour.

Two other women and a man sat in the room, all waiting, she assumed, to see the Reader. As Alessia showed her a seat, DG perched herself uncomfortably on the edge of one of the sofas, amazed at how she nearly fell into it, it was so soft. Fingers curling around the edge of the seat, holding herself upright, DG watched the floor, letting the seconds on the gold wall clock tick away.

Minutes passed, and then more minutes. DG sighed, chewing on her lip and trying to stop her knee from bouncing. She was just daring herself to look at the clock when the white door across from her opened, and out stepped a woman, one DG could only assume was Cynthia, the Reader.

She was beautiful, that fact DG noticed first. Her hair was a pale yellow that had begun to fade to silver; her face was smooth but for a few lines near her eyes. The dress she wore had fringes of beads covering every inch of it, and even across the room, DG could hear the tinkle and swish of the dress as the woman walked.

Cynthia scanned each face that she was presented with critically, and when her eyes landed on DG, she smiled, which quickly turned into a chuckle. "You," she said, pointing her finger at DG.

Surprised, DG touched her chest. Cynthia nodded.

"Yes," she said again, crooking the finger towards her in a 'come here' gesture. "You. Now."

* * *

_Author's Note II: So, bad outlining strikes again - the visit to the Reader was once one chapter and now its two, or maybe three. Not that you're complaining, haha. Well, maybe you're complaining about where I left it off. Ah well, ya'll are at my writing mercy. Leave me one, you know I love 'em! And remember - _**CAST PAGE**_!_


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

Almost directly to the north of the Realm of the Unwanted, the village of Byvasser sat nestled in the sparse, scrub-pine forest. Far placed from the Brick Route, the village was close enough to the gorge that the sound of the rushing river was a constant presence. The night before, the two AR soldiers had arrived near suns-down, and had received permission from a local deputy to camp at the edge of town, under a few towering oaks. Their tent was situated to view the only road that led in and out of town, and they took turns watching it at all times.

Jeb's partner was the man he'd chosen personally to accompany him on this mission. Though he knew very little about the young sergeant's past, there was no doubt in his abilities, and his personal views on the royal family, and Queen Azkadellia in particular, would help him pass as a reasonable Longcoat supporter.

Jeb didn't like the plan; though it wasn't hard for him to focus on the hate he'd felt an annual before, a mere thirteen months, at the height of the Resistance... the Eclipse was approaching fast and the Emerald had yet to be found, the vice of the Sorceress was tightening, she was running out of time... people were dying, children screaming...

No, it wasn't hard to remember that hate. But to associate that villainess, that _Witch_, with the woman who sat on the throne, gentle and quiet and consumed by guilt, was much, much harder.

Sgt. Travers had the type of introspective personality that Jeb's father would have admired. Not a single word was said between the two for the entire trip from the base-camp in the South to the perimeter of Byvasser. Jeb was used to quiet, however. Raised as a child, his home hadn't been full of spoken words, and his mother had said even less after the day the Longcoats had come marching up the road. In the Resistance, if they weren't talking about ambushing Longcoats, liberating miners, delaying supply caravans, then they weren't talking about much else. The past annual as a bodyguard for the future monarch had been the most silent of his life, no one wanted to hear what the guard had to say, which was fine by him. So, Travers was someone with whom Jeb could get along quite nicely.

Their contact was a fat merchant who was covertly keeping the Longcoats supplied. How, exactly, he wasn't telling. It wasn't something that could be outright discussed, after all. But he made his presence known, had stopped by the camp their first morning to tell the young men that anything they might need, they'd probably find in his store. Just a man, doing his business, nothing more.

Jeb had no idea how long they were going to be sitting stagnant in Byvasser waiting for the merchant to put them into contact with the Longcoats, but his patience was impressively far-reaching.

The merchant had a daughter, who had surprised them by bringing them a warm supper. She'd sat with them while they ate, and asked too many questions, unaware of the dealings going on between the two ex-Resistance drifters, and her seemingly-innocent father.

"You guys were with the Resistance?" she asked them.

Both of the soldiers nodded an affirmation, Jeb looking up to offer the girl a smile. No more than seventeen, and stuck in a small village on the far side of the gorge; new people her own age had arrived, and he understood her curiosity.

"Were you a part of the storm on the Tower?" she asked, lowering her voice.

Travers looked up at Jeb, giving him a look that plainly stated he thought the girl was asking too much. Jeb only shrugged his shoulders at his companion, before turning to the girl. "I was," he said, and his smile widened. "I don't know about this layabout here. Probably too busy in the East fighting with Munchkins over ambush tactics."

The girl giggled. "Is that true?"

"Pfft, no," Travers snorted. "But I wasn't at the Tower the day of the Eclipse. I'm not that big of a bloody idiot."

Jeb choked on a laugh. "No, the idiots were the ones that went _into _the Tower. And that wasn't me." He nodded firmly, and then turned to the girl. "I didn't catch your name," he said, and he bit back the charming part of him that wanted to smile more at her.

"Its Devolah," she said.

Jeb tried to feign interest in her. "You lived around these parts very long?" he asked. She was the first villager, aside from the deputy and the merchant, that had braved the gap to come over and speak to them, and he was curious about what goings-on that were obvious enough for the residents to notice.

"My father moved us here after the Fall of Central City," she said. "So, I guess you could consider ten annuals a long time."

"This village get a lot of visitors?"

Devolah shook her head. "Not many at all. People say its because we're so far off the Brick Route," she said. "Traffic has surely slowed down. An annual past, there were men on the road constantly. Wherever that flow came from, its dried up now, and its mostly nice and quiet."

An annual past. The Longcoats, moving to the Southeast from every other direction of the Zone, heading to gather in the Black Forest, sneaking past this out of the way village, unhindered and undetected. Whichever way the 'Coats had gone, Jeb and Travers would soon be heading along the same path.

Silence fell over the three new companions then, as Travers stared into the fire without a word to say to the girl, and Jeb was unsure of what other questions he'd want to ask. After a few moments, Devolah gathered up the dishes she'd served their supper on, and bid them goodnight.

As Jeb watched her walk into the darkness beyond the firelight, towards the lights of the village a little farther off, a slow and deep voice cut into his thoughts. "I think she's got her eye on you," Travers commented, and it was the closest to a lighter mood Jeb had seen the sergeant get, though his tone had done nothing to give it away.

Jeb shook his head, ignoring the comment his partner had made. "You got a girl?" he asked Travers instead.

"Surely do," the sergeant replied, getting up from his seat by the fire to stretch his heavy limbs. "She's waiting for me in Central."

"Oh yeah?" Jeb prompted. "What's she like?"

Travers smirked. "Cute as a button... violent as all hell, though." He shrugged one arm out of his service jacket to bare his forearm to Jeb. A two-inch long scar shone white in the firelight. "Gave me this the night we got engaged."

Jeb's eyebrows raised, and he swallowed back a laugh, unsure if he wanted to ask what Travers had done to deserve such an injury. Shaking his head, he settled down onto the bare ground beside the fire-pit, ready to let the sergeant get some sleep, and to take his shift watching the road.

"What about you?" Travers asked on his way to the single-man tent. "You got someone waitin' for you to come home?"

Jeb nodded slowly, staring into the flames. "Yeah," he said, watching the logs inside the circle of stones become consumed by the fire. "At least, I hope she's waiting." He gave a nervous laugh. "I'll wake you up in a few hours, eh? Try to think about that girl of yours, now that you know there's a pretty thing like _that_ in the village." He nodded in the direction the merchant's daughter had disappeared.

Travers shook his head, seemingly undisturbed by Jeb's comment. "G'night, Cain."

"'Night."

* * *

***

* * *

As Jeb lay in the dirt, staring into a lonely fire, DG was being led into a dim room. The light from the high-set wall sconces was hazy and filtered with dust particles; the air smelled faintly of the type of perfume you might find tucked away in an attic. As her eyes adjusted, she was surprised to find herself in a bedroom, but... as she looked around, she wondered how anything managed to surprise her anymore.

The room was divided into two distinct areas, one for sleeping, and one for sitting, and DG was curious as to which, exactly, this woman conducted her business in. With her back to the closed door, she was afraid to move any farther inside; she watched, instead, as Cynthia flitted about, lighting candles and small lamps, the swish and sashay of her dress accompanying her every move. Stopping suddenly, she looked up at DG, her lips stretched in a patronizing line.

"Don't insult me," she said firmly.

DG's eyebrows raised slightly. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, taking a step back to the door. She wasn't sure what she'd done, but the woman didn't look impressed.

"The magic. Take it off. I know who you are," she said, smirking at DG's foolishness. Trying her best to look contrite, DG let the magic slip, felt the shimmer of it over her skin, and looked up at the Reader once again, hoping her appearance was now satisfactory. To her relief, Cynthia gave her an approving nod.

"Not as pretty as your sister, are you?" Cynthia commented, sounding sympathetic.

DG frowned. "Don't insult _you_, huh?" This certainly wasn't going the way she'd expected, but seldom did things go the way she had thought they might. So, she stood on the fringe of the room and waited, until the Reader had finished lighting her lamps, and had settled herself down at a table situated in the center of the sitting area.

"Well?" Cynthia asked, motioning to the second chair at the small table.

DG crossed the room tentatively, trying not to gawk at her surroundings as she sat; the walls seemed to be papered with old posters and advertisements, resembling a bulletin-board instead of wallpaper, and reminding DG more of a theater dressing room than a bedroom suite. A small green poster seemed to appear much more than any others, depicting a beautiful woman with her arm raised above her head, though it was still too dim in the windowless room for DG to make out the words... she was sure she'd seen it somewhere before.

The chair which she was offered was of heavy carved wood, its cushions worn and faded, but soft. She sat properly, her hands clasped in her lap as she continued to look nervously around. "Would you like anything? Wine, fruit?" Cynthia asked offhandedly, as she adjusted her skirt, the clink of the glass beads almost like rain.

"No, thank you," DG said. "So, how does this work, exactly?"

Cynthia looked up at the princess, a beautifully sculpted eyebrow raised in question. "What do you mean, 'how does this work'? Didn't anyone explain to you what you were getting yourself into?"

"Oh," DG said, realizing her error. "Yeah, I got _that_ speech. I just... are there formalities? Do we discuss business first or after? I mean, if I wanted to smoke, could I smoke?" She was tense, too tense, and she was near the point of breaking into nervous giggles.

Cynthia watched her, quirking her head to the side like a bird. With an unhappy curl to her lips, she shook her head. "You need to calm down. Don't be so scared of me, girl. Don't you know you're different than those others out there?" She motioned her chin towards the door to the antechamber, where the others sat waiting. With a sigh, she got up out of her chair, and went to a small bar that was tucked into the corner of her suite. After a few moments, she returned to DG with a glass of amber liquid.

DG looked up at the woman hesitantly. The Reader frowned.

"Kiddo, if you can't trust what I offer, how're you going to trust the answer I give you?"

DG considered this seriously, as she took the glass. She didn't drink from it, but she _held_ it, studied the contents, sniffed it. The smell was sharp and sweet. Just watching the alcohol and ice swill about the glass had a sobering effect, and she felt slightly calmed. She put the glass down on the tabletop and didn't touch it again.

"Those poor suckers in the other room," Cynthia said with a nod, picking up where she'd left off as she sunk gracefully back into her seat across from the princess. "Did you speak to any of them?"

DG shook her head.

"One of those women out there will be gone by the time you leave my chamber. She'll talk herself out of it, mark my words," Cynthia said assuredly. "The other will do just lovely on the housekeeping staff. The gentleman," she said, and a sly smile crept across her lips, "has excellent aim, and is going to join my personal protection detail. That is, of course, if they both decide to accept." When DG's eyebrows raised in surprise, Cynthia laughed. "I run a business here, my dear. Not every girl that wanders in here is made to spend her annual _entertaining_ my patrons in an upstairs room. Don't get me wrong." Here, she paused and giggled again. "You're _cute_, but you're just not made for it."

Glad to hear this, and yet curiously insulted, the expression that crossed DG's features made the Reader laugh. "You know how to love, and you know the difference it makes – you just don't have the heart for this," Cynthia explained quietly, and for a moment, as their eyes met, the briefest glimpse at someone other than the aloof and mystical Reader, the woman hiding underneath. It wasn't a second later that she seemed to shift back, and her eyes flicked away.

"So, instead of serving an annual in my home," she said, pausing dramatically, "I want something else from you."

DG laughed nervously. "What, my first-born?" she joked.

Cynthia seemed unamused. "I want you to retrieve something for me during your travels," she said, her words clipped as she resumed her business-like manner and dropped the air of mystery. "I cannot tell you what it is until after your Reading, but I can assure you it won't interfere with this _quest_ you seem to be on."

DG opened her mouth to ask how the woman possibly knew what her plans or intentions were, but the woman started to speak again quickly, cutting off her very first word. "This is your price, do you accept?"

"You're sure it won't interfere?" DG asked, thinking about the search for the Emerald, a year before; she thought she'd traipsed every inch of the O.Z., but no, that was wrong... there were so many dark corners still unexplored. "As in, I'm going that way anyway?"

Resolutely, Cynthia nodded. Her lips, painted bright red, like a bloodstain on her pale face, were pursed together tightly. She would say no more until the princess made her choice.

DG sighed, and looked down at her hands, assuming that the Reader was a patient woman. As she studied the familiar lines of her fingers, and Cain's ring that caught and refracted the lamplight, she knew there was only one answer. It wasn't about the question she would ask, it was about _this_ answer she would give.

"Yeah," she said quietly, and cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly very dry. "I accept."

Cynthia's face broke into a relieved smile, and the moment passed anticlimactically. She got out of her chair and went to a cabinet. A ribbon tied to her wrist held a tiny key, and this she used to unlock the doors. When she turned back to DG, she was carrying an crystal ball that was filled with mist.

DG bit her lip uncertainly for a moment, before another nervously babbled sentence spilled out of her mouth. "Whatcha got there?" Definitely better than, _'You know, on the Other Side, they've got these things called B-movies...'_

Tense, her knee bouncing, she watched the inside of the crystal swirl, filled with its own currents of air. When the orb was placed in the middle of the table in front of her, set in a small stand, DG gazed into it carefully, trying to make sense or pattern out of the fog inside, but she saw nothing ethereal, only... mist.

"Within this glass is your answer," Cynthia told her, simply. DG wondered if a piece of ticker tape would come out the little carved stand, or if a talking head would appear in the mist. As Cynthia settled herself back into her chair, brushing a hand quickly through her hair, DG studied the crystal again, cocking her head to one side as if looking at it from a different angle would change what she saw.

Cynthia cleared her throat, and DG's eyes raised to see the woman watching her expectantly. "Well?"

"Um, do I ask you, or do I ask the crystal ball?"

Cynthia scowled. "You ask me, you stupid girl," she snapped, rapidly losing patience with DG's cheek.

DG frowned. "All right then," she mumbled, and took a deep breath. "How do I destroy the power of the Emerald of the Eclipse?"

The Reader's face broke into a grin. "Ooh, that's a good one. You know, I so seldom get good ones," she told DG, as she placed her hands over the crystal ball at a nine-and-three position. The mist inside began to swirl faster, the currents inside shifting, and it began to turn a pale green that darkened quickly to the exact color of an emerald. "It's a rare night that someone walks into this room with a question actually _worth_ the annual."

An image began to appear in the mist, like a projection. The Emerald. And then, like poorly-stored film, more images began to flash, bleary and barely readable. Dorothy, mountains, an untended section of brick road, an armed outlander before a heavy door, dark and narrow corridors, the towers of Central City... one after another until DG was dizzy. Faces swam into focus before immediately dissolving again, so fast that her eyes couldn't possibly keep up. Forcing herself to try, she caught snippets and pieces, pictures of what had been, and scenes she sometimes didn't recognize... falcon in a cage, an empty velvet satchel, herself in a beautiful red dress, an abandoned stone temple...

"I don't understand," she muttered, shaking her head, as Cain's weathered, serious face flashed by.

Seconds seemed to melt away as the barrage of scenes and images inside the crystal continued... until as abruptly as it began, it stopped, fading away from an image of two dark-haired young women facing each other in a dark, dark space, one of whom she was afraid might be herself. Cynthia heaved a great sigh, releasing her tense posture and falling back slightly into her chair. "Huh," she said, staring dumbstruck at the crystal. "So, didja get all that, Princess?"

DG's jaw dropped. "Get all that? What _was_ all that?"

"Glimpses," the Reader said with a non-committal shrug. "And revisits. Surely you recognized _some_ of that?" DG nodded slowly, and Cynthia looked satisfied. "Well then, 'all that' was your answer, the path that leads from this moment to the completion of your task, 'destroying the power of the Emerald'... because you want to keep the stone."

Numbly, DG nodded again.

"To destroy the magic contained inside that little gem, Princess, you need to focus your own Light, its as simple as that. Now, you could take ten annuals and have that headcase-inventor build you a machine to do it." DG's eyes widened and her shoulders fell. Cynthia smirked. "Or," she continued, "you could go to a place where the very air acts as a natural magical conduit, stronger than the waters of Finaqua, where _your Light_, my girl, is all that you're going to need."

DG reared back slightly, unsure if she'd heard right. The older woman smirked at her disbelief. "You think I'm lying," she said with an affirming nod. "But let me tell you something: you've got more power than you think. Your mother didn't lie when she said your Light is strong, and the 'Wizard' certainly didn't lie when he said you were more powerful than your sister."

"How could you know that?" DG asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion, but Cynthia waved her off dismissively.

"Don't concern yourself with _how _to destroy the Emerald. The answer lies not in _how_, DG, but in _where_. There is only one location in the O.Z. where your magic will be powerful enough to overcome that of the stone; _one_ place where, if you focus your Light correctly, it will be as easy as clicking your heels together. Because, after all," the Reader said, "this is about finding a way for _you_ to do it, and you alone."

The finality of that statement shook the princess to her core, but determinedly, she barreled forward, seeking the things she yet didn't know. "So where am I going?" DG asked, and then added "Or does that count as another question?"

The Reader smiled at her. "Deep in the heart of the Black Forest is an old temple, used by the Ancients as a place of sacrifice. This glade, the darkest place in the O.Z., is called Deadwood Fall. It is here that your Light may shine its brightest and, with luck and hope, conquer the Emerald."

DG nearly laughed at the impossibility of it. "The heart of the Black Forest? That's where the Longcoats have their camp!" Cynthia merely nodded. "I'm supposed to march into the middle of a Longcoat camp and pull off some fantastic magic trick?" Again, Cynthia nodded. "How the hell am I supposed to do that?" she demanded, beyond subtlety or caring if those outside in the antechamber could hear. She didn't care how many damn questions she asked.

Cynthia, ignoring the girl's outburst, ran a careful finger over the surface of the crystal, where the mist swirled, calm and undisturbed. "I don't know how you're supposed to pull it off," she said shortly, "all I can tell you is that the way to enter the Longcoat base waits for you in the West."

DG's head quirked slightly at the unexpected change in direction. "West? What's in the West?" When Cynthia raised her eyebrows expectantly, and tapped the top of the crystal, DG tried to think back on what she'd seen. _West_... _mountains..._ and then it came to her so suddenly that she had to roll her eyes at her own ignorance. After all, the Gale had told her the Commander _might_ make a strong ally in the fight that was coming, if the greedy outlander could be properly bribed...

"But beware, Princess," the Reader said, her final warning. "The Emerald is sought by she who commands the Longcoats. Once you've retrieved the Emerald from its resting place, to take it to Deadwood Fall, you must watch your back. As easily as the Sorceress took the Emerald from you before the Eclipse, she who watches you will take it. If you lose the Emerald, it will be the end of Gale rule over the O.Z."

"_She_? Who is _she_? Another witch? Who?"

The Reader only shrugged. "I cannot see. All is gray," she said, as she looked disappointedly into the crystal. "As gray as it was when the Sorceress demanded the location of the Emerald. Oh well... the fog should clear before its too late. It usually does. But keep sharp, you're being watched."

DG frowned. "Let me guess, '_dark eyes_'?"

Cynthia gave the barest hint of a nod, as she pursed her lips together. She'd said all there was to say.

Silence fell over the room then, as DG's head began to formulate her plan. Convincing Cain and Hass to return to the West to search for the outlanders wasn't going to be an easy task. She hoped they might have an idea of how she was supposed to find them... or perhaps she could ask Ambrose, when they took the kid to Central City. Either way... whether she was being intentionally vague or she truly didn't know, the Reader wasn't telling her. So that only left one order of business.

DG's head jerked up to look at Cynthia, who watched her placidly. "Your price. You haven't said yet."

Cynthia's lips stretched into a thin smile. "A book."

DG shook her head, confused. "A _book_?"

The Reader sighed. "An old Zonian treasure that disappeared over a century ago, its titled_ The Record_, and you might want to write that one down, Princess, so you don't forget. Its recently resurfaced in the possession of the Longcoats, though how exactly, this damn thing won't tell me." She tapped the top of the crystal again, annoyed. "_If_ you find a way to infiltrate their camp, and _if_ you succeed in what you've set out to do, retrieving the book will cause you no trouble whatsoever. Its everything else that comes _before_ that you've got to watch out for." The woman nodded knowingly, but DG could only stare in open-mouthed wonder.

The Reader's advice... the Gale's test... her mother's 'plan'... vague and overreaching, suffocating in their expectations, and unforgiving as the consequence of failure.

A worrisome thought crossed her mind. "What if I can't find the book? What if I can't bring it back to you?"

"Of course, if you die in your attempts, it negates your debt to me," Cynthia said simply, as if dying weren't that big of a deal. "But your verbal agreement to do me this favor is a magic of its own, Princess. You won't find a moment of peace, day or night, until your end of the bargain is fulfilled, or you're inside my house serving off your debt another way. You can't hide from it... this baby calls much louder than the Emerald."

She grinned wickedly then, as she stroked the top of the crystal affectionately, and DG's stomach churned. She would pay one way or another in the end, it seemed. She'd promised Cain, and herself, that she wouldn't be serving the annual, and all it would cost her was a book. She tried to cheer herself with that fact.

"Now, Princess," she continued. "Do you remember all that we've discussed here?"

_Deadwood Fall, outlanders in the West... vague direction and no instruction... did they let my mother plan this?_

More questions, more answers.

DG nodded weakly. "Yes, ma'am."

"Well, Your Highness," the Reader said, all business once again. "This was a pleasure, and I eagerly await your return with my book. And remember, the darkest hour comes just before the reappearance of the Light." She nodded sagely, as if her words weren't complete nonsense that left DG frowning at their uselessness.

"You and your Tin Man must spend the night here as my guests. You don't want to go back to that cramped room." Cynthia gave her a conspiratorial wink, and stood from the table. DG followed suit, wondering momentarily if her legs were going to carry her weight. She didn't feel lighter, in knowing her next step, she felt heavier, weighted down with an unbearable load. She didn't want to think about the Emerald anymore, or Longcoats, or outlanders, but in a few minutes she'd be repeating all this to Cain.

She wondered how he was going to react when he found out that they were about to go ask the militants that had imprisoned them for _help._

She was escorted from the Reader's chamber as one might be led out of a doctor's office, all smiles and business and 'thank you for comings'. Nothing this evening had gone as she'd expected, and as she watched the Reader disappear back into her suite, she was amazed at how many things were never as they appeared. Were things so illusionary, or was she just a bad judge of the world around her? The irony of her thoughts hit home as she took a moment to cast a spell over her appearance, hiding behind her magic and leaving the Reader and her crystal ball behind.

In the antechamber, DG wasn't surprised to see one of the women who'd been waiting had disappeared, just as Cynthia had predicted. Neither the man nor the woman who remained looked up to make eye contact, though their heads jerked up in unison as the door opened; quickly, they went back to staring at their hands pensively.

The scantily-clad maid, Alessia, was waiting for her. "This way, Miss," she said, motioning for DG to follow her and keeping her hands to herself, much to the princess's relief. "A room has been made up, and your escort is already there waiting for you. No one will bother you at all this evening, there's no need to worry."

"I think I'd rather leave," DG interjected, as she was led up a flight of stairs.

Alessia giggled absentmindedly. "Oh, that's out of the question, Miss. The Reader has requested you spend the night, and spend the night you shall. Come first light, you'll be able to leave."

"First light? But we're underground," DG pointed out.

The maid rolled her eyes as she led the way through a maze of hallways, passing rooms with doors shut tight and no sounds escaping; it was too eerily quiet. Finally, they stopped in front of a plain, heavy door. Alessia knocked once before turning a key in lock. She then untied the ribbon that held the key to her wrist, and handed it to DG, who held it tightly in her closed fist as the door was opened for her.

Inside the room, Wyatt jumped to his feet at the interruption; he'd removed his hat and duster, and his shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows. Upon the sight of him, DG almost wilted, finally nearing the end of her endurance for the strange place. Ignoring the maid who'd led the way, she crossed the room in a few quick strides, and caught him off-guard as she threw herself at him; after a moment of surprise, he placed his heavy hands on her back. She faintly registered the sound of the door closing and locking as she buried her face in Cain's neck, hiding from the world as long as she was able, until something came along to force her back onto the Road.

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm worried about this chapter and the exposition towards the plot, I'm sure you can see why. Let your opinions be heard! Next chapter, Cain and DG fluff/recap, and a check-in with some characters we haven't heard from in a while... hopefully faster than this one came out. Let me know what you think, or if you're confused, 'cause even after editing it at least six times, I'm uncertain if I laid it all out clearly... blah. Reviews are love! _


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

Wyatt Cain stood, staring out the window of the room he'd been led to. He felt distinctly uncomfortable here, and that tension left him with a deadened feeling in the center of his chest. He felt both empty and detached, and there were moments that he could almost force himself to forget why he was there, though DG never left his thoughts, not for one second. In this surreal, underground place, he was reminded too clearly of all the unpleasant places, circumstances of his life, and always and in all things, the suit was the foremost, the heaviest shadow, the largest taint.

Its lessons still haunted him, plagued what dreams managed to slip to him at night.

The dim lamps caused him to see more of his own reflection in the window-glass than what lay outside in the absolute darkness of the Realm of the Unwanted. What would there be to see? A fence, perhaps, and a stone-slab yard, probably a fountain. No grass, of course. Nothing would grow or thrive down here.

It was near to marking an hour since he'd entered the room. How long DG's Reading would take, he didn't know.

Patience... that, the suit had certainly taught him. Something worth noting. What would Glitch say in such a case? Something about bright sides, untarnished coins, or other nonsense. Eternal optimism.

_What would the headcase say now?_ Cain wondered, as he stared at his own reflection. A smirk that touched the corner of his mouth soon turned into a smile, one that he saw in the glass and felt shame for. Not a time to be smiling, in all honesty...

The grin cracked wider, and another wave of guilt hit him.

_I must be losing it_, he thought with slight dismay, as he regained control over himself and wiped his face to stone-seriousness again. Funny, he'd have thought the suit would have done it, but apparently, he could be pushed a little farther.

He lost most hope for his sanity when, passing by the dressing-table mirror, something caught his eye. DG on the bed... no, DG on the bed in the _mirror_, for when he turned his head to see the bed with his own eyes, she certainly wasn't there. He backtracked, studying the reflection of the room for a moment, but there was nothing, no nude, dark-haired girl peeking at him. Shaking his head, he ran a hand over his face.

He took only a moment to turn the mirror so it faced the ceiling, and away from him, before settling stiffly into an armchair that faced the door. He was tired, suddenly; his legs were done for the moment, that was safe enough to say. Elbows on his knees, and head hanging, Cain closed his eyes and waited.

He was still in this position thirty minutes later, when there was a single, polite knock on the door, and then a key fumbled in the lock. His fingers twitched to reach for the gun at his hip, but instead he held his arms at his side as he pushed himself to standing. The door opened to reveal his princess, escorted by the same maid who'd led the way into the house. DG's posture crumpled at the sight of him, and he felt a strange relief to see that she wasn't crying. If she wasn't crying over it, chances were they would probably live through it.

Without speaking, she crossed the room and threw herself at him; why he didn't brace for her as he normally did, he wasn't sure. She nestled into him, almost as if she were ready to sleep right there, against his chest and on her feet. Aware he was being watched, Cain placed both hands on the small of her back and, with a curt nod, he acknowledged the maid over DG's shoulder who, taking only a moment to lock the door from the inside, closed the door and disappeared.

"Deeg," he said softly, though his voice was a little rough. He gave her a moment to drop her disguise, and when he was sure she had, he ran his hands up the slippery, embroidered fabric of her dress; he cupped both her shoulders and pulled her back to look into her face. There were the tears, glistening at the corners of her eyes. _Damn it_, he thought. He sighed heavily.

"Its fine, I'm okay," she said with a watery smile, and she wiped hastily at her eyes. "Relief tears, I promise... at least, I think." She let out a laugh that skewed into a sob, and suddenly she was hugging herself, and he was pulling her flush against his chest once again. "I'm sorry," she apologized, the words muffled against his shirt. She let go of herself and wrapped her arms around his back. "I'm being stupid. Its just... a _lot,_ and a little... overwhelming."

Cain didn't say anything, only held her until her breathing had relaxed a little. The one harsh sob finished with, she seemed to be done crying. When she looked up at him thankfully, her eyes were dry, and a tiny smile graced her lips. "So, do you want the long story or the short story?"

He raised an eyebrow. "That simple, huh?"

"Not really," she said, shaking her head. She took a step back from him, and there was a rippling wave of warmth as she threw up a spell over the room, to shield their conversation, he assumed; with no fear of being overheard, she laid it out for him.

"To destroy the Emerald, I have to go to a place where my magic will be amplified, so that my Light can overcome the power of the stone, like... well, I don't know. I wonder if Tutor would know," she said, and looked away from him; he nearly smiled at the sight of her, off on a thought. "You know, its a good thing we're heading back to Central City. I'm gonna need to talk to Tutor. And Ambrose." Then, she frowned, and looked back up at him, and her frown deepened to see him smirking at her. "I wish I could talk to my mother."

"You'd want to be careful headin' up that way, storms are in 'round this time," he commented, "but you'll remember that from your last trip North."

DG rolled her eyes. "I'm sure we could find something more reliable than DeMilo's wagon," she said dryly. "But I don't think there's enough time to go to the Ice Palace. We need to head West."

It was Cain's turn to frown. "What's in the West?"

Her face fell. "I'm getting ahead of myself," she said, more to herself than to him. "Sit. I think we need to sit for this." Her nervous babble amused him, and he sat down, at her insistence, on the edge of the bed. She joined him, drawing her legs up to tuck underneath her.

"Do you know anything about a place called Deadwood Fall?"

Cain shook his head slowly. "DG, that's in the middle of the Black Forest. Those woods are teemin' with Longcoats." His words came slow, as he pieced together what she'd said before and her current question. "Are you tellin' me we're headed into the Forest? You wanna walk headlong into an enemy base?"

DG bit her lip. "Not quite yet, but yes. Well, sort of. I wasn't thinking 'headlong', but hey, we can discuss tactics later, right?" She offered him a nervous smile, and he couldn't help the surprised look on his face at her nerve.

"So then, Princess," he said with a resigned sigh. "If its 'not quite yet', that must mean we're headin' West for a reason. What's in the West?" he repeated firmly, and turned his eyes on her, knowing the effect his piercing stare had. Her shoulders fell.

"The outlanders are in the West," she said, turning her head to look away from him. Her words were careful, and he knew she waited for an outburst from him; sure enough, he felt something rising in his chest, an anger of hard-struck clarity. _Outlanders_, a race of insurgents and slavers. Though he'd endured more unbearable things in his life than his four-day imprisonment, five stories under the ground, it still struck a painful chord.

Looking down into her deceptively innocent blue eyes, he saw her bating her breath, waiting for his reaction. He cursed himself; there was no reason for her to have to worry about _him_. "You don't like this any more than I do, huh, Darlin'?" he said, dodging the reason of her agitation, and grabbing at a broader straw.

"Not especially," she admitted. "Its like before. The Mystic Man pointed us South, and then we had to figure out the next step, right? I think this is kind of the same thing..."

Cain frowned unhappily. More guesswork and blind fumbling. West, past the Tower, past the mountains, across the desert dwelt the Outlanders. Sheer impossibility – _unless..._

DG's voice cut into his thoughts, as she continued to run through what the Reader had told her. "She said we're safe until we take the Emerald from the Gale Tomb," she said, her tone lilting hopefully. "Its once we remove it that we're going to be in danger." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know why. We're just still under the radar, for now."

His scarred eyebrow perked upward curiously at the Other Side term.

"Oh, nevermind," she moaned. "The point _is_ –" She paused to look at him, frustration etched on every pale curve of her face. "– that hopefully, the Commander will know how I get into the forest to destroy the Emerald without the Longcoats noticing."

"You plan on just walkin' up and demandin' the information, Princess?" he asked skeptically.

"No," she said slowly, "but if it gets him closer to getting what he wants, then why shouldn't he help us?"

"You assume a lot," was all he said. She worried about sneaking into a forest full of Longcoats but she'd march straight up to an outlander fortress and bang on the front door. He laughed, and shook his head.

"What?" she asked nervously.

"You, not bein' scared of the outlanders," he said with another small chuckle.

"Oh," she said, and rolled her eyes. Climbing up onto his lap in a few, fluid movements, she straddled him and wrapped her arms securely around his neck. "I've got a lot of balls for a princess, don't I?" she asked him, her voice hinting at pride.

Cain cleared his throat, as his hands settled on her waist, holding her in place. "I don't know 'bout that," he said, smirking at her language. There wasn't any way he was about to let her get playful, not _here_, at any rate. But she squirmed against him, undulating just so, and he raised a hand to cup her face, training her eyes onto his. He reached out a thumb, to run it over the softness of her bottom lip, and her eyes fell to his own mouth, watching him as he spoke.

"So, you got your answer," he said, his voice a low rumble. Meekly, she nodded. "And what did it cost ya, Deeg?" he asked. He'd been readying himself all night to hear this response, though he was unsure of what he could possibly be expecting.

"A book," she managed.

Cain's eyebrows knit together slowly; that, he hadn't been expecting. "A book?"

"The Longcoats have it."

"Ah," he said, not feeling the need to ask her any farther, as he felt he might be treated to the customary shrug and _don't know_. He waited for her to say more, but she fell quiet. She squirmed in his lap again, and beneath her, he shifted. "Darlin'," he said slowly, and she smiled as she nuzzled into the hand that cupped her face, closing her eyes.

"Lemme guess," she mumbled. "Right place, right time." When he didn't respond, she smiled, and gave a deep sigh. "All right, but you're missing out. This place has me feeling kinda naughty." She grinned at his exasperated expression, the scowl that settled on his lips, as she disentangled herself from his lap. She stretched out on the opposite side of the bed, propped up on an elbow. "They said we have to stay 'til morning."

Cain nodded. He'd been informed of as much, though his brain hadn't been able to come with a reason as to _why_. He watched as DG let her head fall to the pillow, running a hand through her hair. "So do you think we could get some sleep?" she asked. "I promise to behave myself if you lie with me." Frowning, he nodded. He got off the bed long enough to remove his holster, and his boots. His revolver, he laid near the top of the bed, within easy reach.

With her magic, DG dimmed all the lamps to a low, soft glow. Neither climbed into the bed, instead laying on top of the soft coverlet; DG pulled over them a soft blanket that had been folded near the foot of the bed. At least the maid had had the decency to put them into a guest bedroom instead of... Cain rolled his eyes at the thought of what other things were going on throughout the rooms and halls of this strange place. Settling down with DG against his chest, her back pressed into him and her body bending as his bent, they both closed their eyes in the still silence... and the princess slept.

Cain, however, only dozed uneasily. There was too many thoughts in his head, begging for proper attention, for him to relax and sleep. Each step their journey took seemed to lead into another, each more improbable, impossible than the one before. But as far as he could see, the path into the West was clear, and without obstacle.

His mind was on how to get DG to the Commander when she began to stir against him, rolling her hips back as she stretched with a sigh. She turned in his arms, tucking her head under his chin; she was warm and limp in his arms, still half-asleep. When she was done shifting, his hand settled on her hip, and he slid it downwards, until he found the edge of her dress riding up her thigh. DG hummed softly, a sound that could almost have been an affirmation; he let his fingers brush the back of her thigh, the touch of her skin against his near scorching.

"Is it morning?" she asked, her voice gravelly with sleep.

"Nowhere near," he whispered to her through gritted teeth. Whatever semblance of restraint he still contained, he lost it when she pulled his mouth down to hers, showing him she was truly awake as she slipped her tongue between his lips and began to explore his mouth. Keeping one hand firmly on the back of his neck, her other trailed downward, past the buttons of his shirt. Impatient fingers began their work on his belt, and the heavy hand that held her by the leg shot away to cover hers, to still the movement that was causing his body to respond too willingly.

"Please," she muttered against his mouth as she broke their kiss. "I want you. We'll be quiet, promise."

Cain kissed her, his lips crushing against hers heatedly as his tongue plunged into her mouth. She moaned low, pressing her body against his. He let go of her hand, letting her succeed in undoing his belt; seconds later, the zipper was down and her hand was slipping into his trousers. She molded against him perfectly, her fingers wrapping around his length and stroking him enticingly. His head gave a maddening spin, and he took a deep breath; she obviously wasn't in the mood for foreplay. Eager to please her, to have her and encase himself within her heat, he shoved his pants down over his hips. Grabbing her by the thigh, he hooked her over his hip and rolled her onto her back, coming to a rest in the welcoming cradle her legs created for him. Her fingers still around him, DG guided him to slide tenderly inside.

He gasped at the sensation of burying deep into her. She was raising her legs to clutch them higher on his torso, lifting her hips to pull him in deeper still. Her inner walls tightened about him; his head gave another spin, and his arousal a throb that caused her to moan and squeeze about him again. He regretted the clothes between them, wished he could feel every inch of her body against his.

He laid his forehead against her shoulder as he began to rock gently, in and out; the movement of his hips was minimal, wanting to stay as connected as possible to her. There was no room for something to come between them; when he braced himself up on his arms, she clung to his shoulders, and he wrapped an arm about her back to hold her up. His fingers clutched at her hip hard enough to bruise. Fighting back urges to shove into her, Cain kept his pace slow, grimacing with the control it required. As he released his hold on her, DG fell back to the mattress, and he lowered himself to her, attacking her neck with his mouth, biting her shoulder hard only to soothe the spot with his lips when she gave a sharp cry.

DG arched up into him, her legs tightening on his hips; her fingernails raked down his back, his shirt the only thing stopping her from drawing blood. "_Fuck_," she moaned quietly, and the profanity falling from her lips caused his pace to quicken, his hips to drive more firmly into hers. He felt his end nearing, and wanted to take her with him; he placed a hand between her legs and began to stroke her lightly in rhythm with his thrusts. Soon, she was crying out again despite her promise to be quiet, and he tumbled over the edge with her. He collapsed atop her breathlessly and only made a weak attempt at supporting his own weight, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

She didn't release her legs from about his waist, instead clinging more tightly as she shook. "Love you," she whispered into his neck, sounding near tears. "I love you."

Pushing up on an elbow, Cain looked down into her face, seeing only her familiar open honesty, her wide and pale eyes. If they'd ever know a day of true peace, he couldn't safely say; he could only give her what he had, while it was his to give. "I love you, too," he told her, and placed a soft kiss on her cheek before pulling away to settle down at her side. After tucking himself away, he pulled her up against him again, his arm around her, her head pillowed on his chest, and her hand over his heart. He felt the heat of her palm through his shirt.

"Will you sleep?" she asked, her voice cutting through the dim light and silence.

"I think I might now," he said, though he knew it was a high probability. Relaxed, warm, and admitting to himself that they were probably safer where they were than in the cramped room on the other side of the Realm, Wyatt Cain tightened his arm about the princess pressed against his side, and closed his eyes.

* * *

***

* * *

A clock on the wall struck the hour of six and brought both DG and Cain abruptly out of sleep. As the veil of slumber lifted, they moved out of the bed and onto their feet. They only took a few moments to ready themselves, before DG was raising the illusion of disguise – she was kind of liking the reaction she got as a blonde, though not from Cain, of course – and they were readying to leave.

"I hope you can remember the way out," DG commented lightly as she pulled on her coat. She smirked at Cain's stiff nod, the grim look he gave her. "Cheer up, Cain!" she exclaimed, and he turned his eyes sharply on her. She reached out and touched his hand with tentative fingers.

"I'll cheer up when we're above ground, Princess," was his only reply. His hand clasped hers tight, and he didn't let go as he led her through the twist of passages that eventually brought them to the stairs and within view of the front door. Cain's steps were fast and determined, and she tried to keep up.

At the bottom of the stairs, a maid waited for them, a different girl from the night before. "Did you sleep well, Miss?" she asked DG, essentially ignoring Cain. DG stopped to smile, and nod.

"Yes, thank you," she said, her head twitching to the side curiously. Though Cain paused briefly for her, she could feel his impatience, and quite honestly shared his desire to leave as quickly as possible. The front door was opened by the uniformed guards flanking it. After another small smile for the maid who had come to see them off, DG followed Cain out, the stale, warm air of the early Realm morning hitting her unpleasantly in the face as they hurried down the steps and across the courtyard. The doors closed quietly behind them.

"Thank God," DG murmured, and she made to slow her pace, only to have Cain yank insistently on her arm. "Can we slow it down a notch, Cain? I'm still waking up!"

Though he slowed noticeably, it wasn't much, and her legs ached from one end of the Realm to the other. The life of the night before had died down somewhat, leaving the streets feeling empty, though patrons still wandered up one side or the other, no doubt discussing events of the night prior. In a place like this, something was always going on, and the two outsiders moved quickly through the wake, drawing little attention.

DG dropped her disguise when they reached the small room Cain had rented, up a flight of stairs and down a dingy, dark hallway. As Cain rapped sharply on the door, an exclamation could be heard from within. _"Gods, finally!_" The door was opened inward to reveal the haggard Jeremy Hass. Ushered into the room, DG saw Tory rubbing sleep from his eyes on the bed.

"What took you guys so long?" the kid asked indignantly.

"Unexpected overnight stay," Cain muttered gruffly. "You two need to be ready to go in the next thirty minutes, understand?"

"You do any sleeping on that overnight stay, Mr. Cain?" Tory asked, raising an eyebrow pointedly. "You're quite the grouch this morning."

"Hey, now," DG said warningly, as she heard the sound of Cain's jaw grinding his teeth together hard. She wasn't quite sure she was admonishing. "We're going to need to eat before we leave," she said to all three of her companions, wanting very much to change the subject and ease some of the tension.

"I'll go see what I can find," Hass said quickly, and she could read on his face the eagerness to leave the room.

"Coward," she called after him with a frown as he escaped into the peace of the hallway. Hass shot her a grin before closing the door behind him. She crossed the room to bolt the door again, before turning to face the room. Cain had gone to the window and was staring outside, one hand hovering over his holster. Tory hadn't moved off the bed, and was staring at his fingernails, occasionally shooting a death-glare at the Tin Man's back. With a heavy sigh, she moved over to the bed and plopped down at the foot. "How'd you sleep, Kid?"

"Didn't, really, with Hass pacing the floor the whole time," Tory said offhandedly, training his brown eyes on DG. "He was really nervous. Told me that he doesn't like it underground, like you did when we came down here."

DG nodded slowly, looking away from him. "Its not a very nice place to be," she said, and then shrugged her shoulders. "I can't wait to get back up to the suns, even if its another day of travelling." When she met the kid's gaze, she rolled her eyes and he smiled. "We'll be in Central City by tomorrow evening and you'll be on your way home."

Tory's face brightened. "Awesome," he said with a smile. Without another word, he walked to the bathroom and shut the door. DG watched the closed door with a soft, relieved smile. It wasn't more than a few moments before Cain's voice cut into her thoughts.

"Sure turned his mood around easy," he said, turning to look at her and then nodding at the closed bathroom door.

DG laughed. "If only it was easy to do the same for you," she ribbed gently, and was rewarded when the tiniest of smiles graced his mouth. She hopped up off the bed and went to him, not caring if the kid would come out of the bathroom to see them. She wrapped her arms around the Tin Man inside of his duster, and backed him up against the window.

Looking down at her, his blue eyes piercing her own, he smirked. "You ready to head up, Darlin'?"

DG cast her gaze upward, as if she were thinking about her answer. "You're damn right I am!" she told him, and her spine gave an involuntary shiver. "Although I'm going to feel bad about leaving this kid with Ambrose. What if they can't help him slip over right away? He'll be stuck at Alta Torretta with strangers."

"DG, he's not a puppy," Cain said firmly. "You can't keep him."

"I don't want to _keep_ him," she said with a frown. "I just don't want to abandon him."

"Leavin' him with Glitch and your sister won't be _abandoning _him," he told her, his blue eyes sparking with amusement now. With a sigh, DG leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek before pulling away, but as she disentangled her arms from the inside of his duster, he pulled her back and placed a warm kiss on her lips. DG grinned before melting into him, allowing his tongue entrance to her mouth, enjoying the sharp, thick flavour of him. She didn't argue when he pulled away, instead leaving him by the window and going about her business.

When Hass arrived back with a miserably small breakfast, DG had changed back into slacks and was ready to leave. Quickly, the four companions ate, washing back the cold vendor food with warm coffee. They left the small room undisturbed, and headed with determined steps towards the doors that would lead them out of the Realm of the Unwanted, and back to the surface.

The light that broke over them as the doors were heaved open was close to blinding. The suns were coming up, clear and bright. The chill of the Realm seemed warm, however, compared to the cold of the open air. It was beginning to feel like late autumn to DG, when it fact it was only late summer. She was buttoning her coat and pulling her hat down farther, when Cain walked over to her.

"I'm gonna take the kid to scout ahead," he said shortly. When she opened her mouth to question him, he cut her off with a sharp look. "You ride with Hass and fill him in on everythin' you told me last night." His eyes fell to her mouth, and she wondered what parts of the night he was remembering at that moment. "He needs to know what to keep an eye out for."

She nodded her understanding, swallowing hard as his eyes kept searching her lips. "Fine, I'll ride with Hass," she told him, aware how blatantly he watched her mouth form each word. "But I don't have to like it."

Cain smirked, and his eyes finally fell away from her mouth as Hass approached. "That kid over there," Hass said, with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder, "is convinced that Cain is going to take him out in the woods and lose him there." DG looked up to see Tory mounting his horse with little trouble, casting nervous glances in the direction of the convocation of adults.

DG rolled her eyes as Cain straightened his shoulders and stepped away from her. "And who would've given him that idea?" she wondered aloud, ignoring the self-satisfied smirk that had settled good-naturedly on the corporal's face.

"We'll double back in fifteen minutes," Cain told her, "so try to make it quick."

"Short story?" DG guessed, trying to grin.

Cain nodded curtly. He turned without a backwards glance, mounted his horse, and kicked off. With one last anxious glance towards DG, Tory dug in his heels and reined his horse to follow after Cain. She didn't say anything, until Corporal Hass had pulled himself into his saddle, and she was clambering up gracelessly to sit behind him.

"You ready?" he asked, a little uncomfortably.

"Yeah," she told him as she tried to settle herself. As they set out onto the road, Hass kept the horse at a slow pace, giving her time to collect her thoughts. But after they'd gone five minutes, and she still hadn't spoken, he cleared his throat.

"So... short story?" he prompted.

DG sighed, her arms tight around his torso. "West, to the Outlanders. Then back this way, to the Black Forest," she said, speaking loudly so as to be heard over the pounding of the horse's hooves on the packed-dirt road. "We have to get past the Longcoats in order to destroy the Emerald. The Reader told me the Commander will know how we're supposed to do that."

Hass shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at her. "And how're we supposed to find the outlanders, exactly?"

DG shrugged. "That's where we hit a snag. So Central City for now."

Far off in the distance, DG could make out two figures on horseback coming towards them; they were catching up to Tory and Cain. Soon, the four were together again and heading slightly northwest on a road that would eventually meet up with the Brick Route. Once they crossed the gorge, Cain would probably want to stop until morning. They would not be able to traverse the Papay fields before night fell.

DG spent most of the morning with her cheek pressed into the rough fabric of the corporal's service jacket. She was cold, and the suns had very little warming effect on the morning. Her breath came in short puffs, and she was glad for the solid body in front of her to act as a windbreak. Her mind seemed to run mad, searching for a way to contact the Commander. She was almost certain they didn't have time to waste wandering the mountains in the West, or worse, leaving the O.Z. to cross the border into the desert.

The Commander had sent her a telegram... It had been almost nine months since Glitch had come running with the stiff piece of paper, the small note showing such arrogance, such disdain... He'd signed it 'the Watcher', to let her know that he was, to conceal his identity... he'd never sent her another contact.

The underground base that had rested between Finaqua and the Gale Tomb was gone... demolished, the crater filled in, the miles and miles of tunnel that ran throughout the countryside, collapsed. Destroyed, as if the complex had never existed. The outlanders had no stronghold in enemy lands, they would not be returning to the O.Z.

But he was watching... _dark eyes_...

He couldn't be watching them. _Someone_ would have reported an outlander skulking about Central City. It wasn't as if the strange men could blend in easily. Some threatened a height of seven feet tall, weight and strength that could easily crush her bones to dust. Skin like sandpaper, rough to the touch, but still _skin_, covering nerve and tissue. Nothing on the Other Side had ever, ever compared...

It was near midday when Hass spotted a creek at which to stop and rest. As DG crouched by the waters edge, dipping her hands in, reflected in the water she saw Cain come to stand over her, then hunker down beside her. "You're gonna bleed, you keep chewin' your lip like that," he commented easily.

DG sighed, bringing a cold, wet hand to her face. She covered her eyes. "I just can't figure out how we're supposed to do this," she told him, taking a deep breath. She didn't want to cry, but she felt very... _frustrated_.After a year – an annual – of living life as a princess, she had forgotten what it was like to have no direction. To think about your next step, instead of being told. "How do we find them? They live under the ground."

_You've done this before, girl,_ she chastised herself. _The answers are there, you just have to look a little harder to find them._

Cain cleared his throat, bringing her thoughts back to the creek and the cold morning with a bump. "Don't worry about that," he said. "You just concentrate on what you're gonna say to this Commander when you meet him."

DG frowned, taking her hand away from her face.

_Do you know the way?_

Cain gave his head a shake at the invasion of her voice. "No," he said, and his eyes met hers, as clear and sharp as the air around them. "But I know someone who will."

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_Author's Note: So... if this were a miniseries on TV, this is where Night One would end, I think (Oh, and the first four chapters woulda been a comic, haha)... Reviews, also, are much appreciated. My muse has decided she's a "starving artist" and needs the nourishment. We all know muses and bunnies alike are fed fat with reviews._


	17. Chapter Seventeen

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Author's Note: Wow, there is no excuse (though I have several). Thanks to Erin for the sentence-betas.

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**Chapter Seventeen**

When Ahamo stepped into his bedchamber at the Northern Palace, he was surprised to see that his wife was not in their bed. He'd expected to find her sleeping – after all, she'd left him in the library almost two hours prior, stating that she was tired, and wanted to rest her head. Stepping fully into the room, he became further concerned at the temperature of the suite – it was as freezing as the night outside. As he reached for the switch to light the multiple sconce lamps that lined the walls, her voice, from out of nowhere, called out to him.

"Leave the lights," she said softly.

"Lo?" he asked, as he retracted his hand. He closed the door, dim illumination seeping in through the glass-panes. He could not see her, and instead of bumbling about like a fool, he waited for her to speak again.

"Did you finally tire of your book?" she asked him... from the direction of the balcony. Turning his head, he frowned at the sight of the double glass doors opened wide, letting the eternal chill of the Northern winter into the room. Though it had stormed most of the time since their arrival four days earlier, there had finally been a break in the raging winds and swirling snow that had lasted most of the afternoon, and into the evening.

As he crossed the room, the figure of his wife out on the balcony came into view. A cloak was wrapped around her shoulders, the hood covering her silver hair. At the sound of his approach, she turned to him. "Will you stand with me?" she asked. Nodding, he backtracked into the room to the massive closet, where he eventually managed to locate his coat. Buttoning it, he joined his wife on the balcony.

She stared at the sky. There were no breaks in the clouds, and the lights of the palace created a hazy, pink dome; one that reflected off the snow around them and banished the darkness. It was not as cold as it had been on the day of their arrival. She drew her strength from this cold, his beautiful wife. He openly admired her with eyes that had long starved for her loveliness; her cheeks tinged red, the tip of her nose well on its way, the puffs of air that escaped her mouth as she breathed in the icy night around them.

"Stop it," she told him with a gentle, secret smile. So, she'd noticed that he was staring.

Sheepishly, he looked away. "Nice night," he said absently, leaning his elbows on the rail to take in the view. Not as beautiful as his wife, but breathtaking nonetheless.

"It is quite lovely," his wife replied breezily. "I thought I'd take some fresh air."

Smirking, Ahamo flicked his eyes towards her, while she stared stoically out upon her frozen realm. "And how long have you been out here?"

Turning towards him, she smiled, a brilliant showing of teeth. "Since I came upstairs."

"Well then," he said, clearing his throat. He moved over a few paces, now leaning back against the railing to take her in his arms. The cold didn't seem to affect her the way it affected him, it had always been that way; she was only now beginning to shiver, barely there tremors, after two hours. "What's weighing on your mind?"

"I was thinking about Azkadellia."

"Ah yes," he said, pressing his lips together. Worry over Azkadellia was putting a heavy pall on her, even more so since they'd left Central City. "Lo, there is no reason to be fretting about Az."

She pulled away, frowning at him. "I'm not fretting." The same stubborn tone he loved, that tweaked at his heartstrings every time it escaped the mouth of his wife, or his daughters to whom she'd passed it on. He'd gone fifteen annuals without hearing those tiny, indignant exclamations... and then, quite suddenly, he was being jabbed with a broom and the fiery mouth behind it was channelling her mother.

Shaking his head clear, Ahamo ignored her comment. "She's got the same capable men and women that supported you. The people are... _accepting_. Every resource you had at your disposal, she does, too." He tried on his most convincing serious look; it wasn't often he was the one doling out the sage advice, and he wasn't quite sure if he was doing it right.

"With DG gone, she'll be quite alone," was his wife's only reply. He still held her by the arms, though she'd put that much distance between them. She stared at him, her face completely passive, no waiver in her voice to give away the turmoil of her mind. He could read it very clearly in her eyes.

"Chances are that DG'll be back within two weeks," he said, he hoped not too optimistically. "And by the time snow falls in Central City, Az will be heading up to the Island." When his wife frowned, he countered her with a small smile, wanting it to catch. When it didn't, he sighed. "Lo," he said slowly. "Do you remember your first few months on the throne?"

Her lavender eyes caught his. "Vaguely," she replied.

"And do you remember who sat at your right hand the whole time, muttering in your ear that your decisions were going to destroy her country?"

If she flushed at his comment, her cheeks were already too pink with cold for him to tell. "I am _not_ my mother," she hissed at him, and he laughed, pulling her towards him to place a kiss on her chilly forehead. "There is nothing for Azkadellia to do but rebuild the country," she said softly, and he could see her internal struggle. She took a moment, turning her head to look out into the night... somewhere in that distant landscape lay Central City. He looked out, as well. An endless expanse of snowy lake and field, the thick forest beyond lost in the darkness. When she finally began to speak, her words took him by surprise. "The news out of the Southeast troubles me."

"The Longcoats army is no match for the AR now," Ahamo countered. "No matter how well supplied."

"I don't think our greatest worry is the Longcoat army, but the driving force behind it, Darling," she said. "Whoever they follow, the magic this person possesses will only grow in the Black Forest. There is too much darkness," she said, still gazing out into the hazy, frozen night. "It is too difficult to see what is coming."

_Until its too late,_ his mind finished for her, his dire thoughts driving a hard shiver through his bones. He was beginning to understand a little more clearly why she was so worried about Azkadellia and the kingdom. "With the help of the advisors and the generals, Az will protect the country," he said, doing his best to reassure her. He tried to recall what he could of his Ozian lore, hoping he didn't sound like a fool to her as he spoke. "A Daughter of Light on the throne makes the country much more secure than it was even a month ago."

He didn't need to tell his wife that she could have done nothing to save her country, when physical might failed, when her forces were defeated. His wife's Light was no longer strong enough to protect the country or the people... a very sharp and painful reminder of the past.

"Whatever is going to happen, will happen," was the only thing he could offer, once he realized she'd fallen into a dark silence. She looked up at him, her lips set in an unhappy line, and she rolled her eyes at his unjustified hopefulness.

"Soon," she whispered. Something in her voice hinted at a deeper knowledge, one that he could never possibly possess. She was more attuned to the land than he, this land of her birth, these snowy plains of her very existence. "It will happen soon."

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In Central City, the doors to the royal suite opened magically as their queen approached. Her guards – no longer temporary – took their position, knowing that they went no farther than the threshold. Azkadellia left the doors open behind her a few seconds longer than normal now, as Ambrose was right behind her, and he would be her final audience of the day. Unscheduled routine, his nightly presence was becoming predictable... and as much as it frustrated her to admit, his company was familiar and a comfort; he was the only other link to her sister.

"Is there any word from my sister and the captain, Ambrose?" she asked him, as soon as the doors had swung shut behind him.

"No, not yet," he said. He called her by no reverent title, but was too bashful and flustered to call her by any other name. Her mother had never made such a request – and there had never been a time when he found it hard to call DG by _her _name (though he usually slipped up and called her Princess first). Azkadellia, he didn't quite know how to place. She changed every day, as nature went slowly through its cycle of seasons. Unlike her sister, who was stubbornly only hot or cold. As for him, well he only observed. It helped his concentration... which undoubtedly needed work.

"How long has it been?" she asked, she pulled her gloves off and laid them on a side-table.

"Three days," he said quietly. He moved to the edge of the room, touching a few things that lay in decoration upon the shelves and surfaces, bits of memory coming to him as his hand slid from touchstone to touchstone... _glass, the windows of the Ice Palace; metal, an invention half-created in his hands; ceramic, his mother's good vase... _

When his eyes flicked away from the knick-knacks he was touching absently, his eyes caught hers; she was looking at him with a frown, her brow furrowed.

"Why doesn't the corporal carry messages? Surely it would be faster, with a falcon's speed."

Ambrose frowned, and a quirky smile jumped suddenly to his lips. "I asked DG that myself, once. She told me that 'only owls carry messages.'"

Azkadellia raised an eyebrow, and made to speak, but realized she knew better. No, it made no sense, it rarely did when it came to DG... Az would just have to ask her sister when she got back.

Ambrose continued. "In any case, I doubt the corporal would have agreed to such a thing. He's a scout, not a messenger. Let the guy have his dignity." His lips curved downwards from their smile, to settle into a thin line. "Also, we wouldn't want to run the risk of him being followed. Or captured, and leaving DG with only Cain as a guard."

Azkadellia almost smiled, and something in her eye almost hinted at a quiet laughter inside. "I don't know, those two can handle themselves fine on their own."

"Well, with all the potential for trouble out there," Ambrose said, after he'd cleared his throat pointedly, "lets just hope they don't try to chance it." Some happy voice inside his head, the one that Cain had a problem with, told him that the trouble had to end _somewhere_, and that his friends were safe, and would probably remain that way. But then again, there was the second voice – the one that _sounded _like Cain – that said even when Glitch had had half a brain, he hadn't been as naïve as that.

The silence stretched on for a long while, before Azkadellia spoke again. "I would have thought there would be another report," she said honestly. "Even with communication as unreliable as it is in the South."

Ambrose shrugged his shoulders, and put his hands in his pockets, to harness the restlessness. "Word will come soon," he reassured her. Whether she was worried about the task DG was undertaking, or just worried about her sister being out on the Road in such uncertain times, his brain couldn't quite discern. The woman before him shouldered burdens that he would never be able to imagine. To worry about rebuilding her country, about enemy forces amassing within her own lands; DG's task, her own palpable loss. From her high perch in Central City, Azkadellia watched the dark clouds on the horizon, and as he'd promised her sister, Ambrose watched Azkadellia.

"I want to be notified when Andrus arrives tomorrow," Azkadellia said, as she seemed to move past speaking of her sister with a pain that was too evident in her eyes, and ploughed forward to bring their meeting to a close. "As soon as he passes through the city gates."

Ambrose cleared his throat. "Actually, Majesty, there was a slight change in the general's plans. I wasn't aware that you had wanted to see him tomorrow," he said quickly, realizing his sudden error now in not informing her of these facts surrounding the general. "But with time restraints being what they are, I'll be travelling to the Tower tomorrow to meet with the general there. He won't be coming to Central City."

"Why is Andrus going to the Tower?"

"The army will be conducting another interrogation of the Longcoats they have in their custody, and Andrus wants to personally oversee a few of them," he said shortly. Like trying to squeeze water from a stone, Ambrose knew without a doubt that the army would get no new information out of their prisoners. But their options were beginning to dwindle down to repetitive action.

With a sigh, Azkadellia turned towards him, her hands clasped together. "When did this change occur?"

"I received notification a few hours ago."

She frowned, a permanent sad line etched upon her mouth. "Well, then," she said unhappily. "I'll just travel with you to the Tower tomorrow." She said this bravely, as the Tower wasn't somewhere she went willingly, or often... or at all, really. Just seeing it in the distance, a tiny reminder on the horizon of events past, was more than enough for her.

"Your Majesty," he said, surprised. "There is the matter of the –"

"No," she told him firmly. "Whatever it is, it can be rescheduled. A minimal escort can accompany us and we can be back by late evening."

Ambrose was of half a mind to argue; no, of a full mind to argue. There was a day of parliament sessions that required her presence that started before the second sun was up, and he honestly had to wonder if her battered conscience could take a visit to the Tower. He, himself, required a deep breath when entering the building, and the stark, heartless place always seemed to feed off him, leaving him worn-out and shaking upon departure.

But Ambrose was not paid for his personal concerns. "I will make the arrangements," he told her instead, giving her a small bow of his head.

"From now on, I want Andrus's reports brought to me as soon as they arrive."

Ambrose nodded again. Without waiting for her to dismiss him, he turned and began to stride out of the room, knowing he now had a bit more work to do before he could turn in for the night. When he opened the door, his queen called out to him, and he turned slightly in the open door frame.

"Thank you, Ambrose," she said, and there was a grateful smile on her lips. It was the most relaxed and like herself he'd seen her in weeks, since before the shadow of the coronation had fallen, before the events that followed, the loss of the child and the departure of Cain and DG. And so, returning her smile with one of his own, and leaving the room, Ambrose was left to ponder at what had lifted from her shoulders and given her reason to smile.

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At the edge of the Papay fields, the travellers stopped for the night. Though it was still early, and the suns were still well above the horizon, Cain wasn't in enough of a hurry to risk crossing the fields in the dark. The group made camp near the same place they had rested on the journey South.

After the horses had been fed and watered, and after the four companions had eaten, DG took Cain aside.

"I'm going to tell Tory what to expect when we arrive in Central City," she told him, already settled upon her decision. When Cain raised a skeptical eyebrow, she only held up a hand to keep him from arguing with her. "We aren't going to be able to march him up to the palace without telling him why we've got a key to the back door."

"DG, you aren't going to the palace," he told her.

She cocked her head to the side slightly, giving him a challenging little grin. "Says who?"

"I do. You are stayin' hidden while we're in Central City," he said; he noticed immediately, the subtle shift in her eyes. Something flickered, flared, however quietly.

"I want to see my sister."

Cain smirked. Always straight to the point. Feeling slightly guilty about denying her what she wanted, he shook his head. "Listen, Deeg," he said low, "I know you're worried about your sister. But its only been three days since you last saw her." When she opened her mouth to argue with him, he shook his head again, and stuck to his guns – so to speak. "You know I'm right," he tacked on, when she tried to get half a word across.

With a mighty exhale, DG deflated. Of course she knew he was right, but she wasn't the type to let anything go without a fight. She shot him a dirty look and stalked away; she was prepared, he assumed, to huff and glare for a while, though he was sure by the end of the evening that she'd slowly fade from her indignation back to normal, as if nothing significant had happened. Or at least, he hoped. An argument was always best settled before the day drew to a close.

He stood at the edge of the firelight, watching as she moved to the other end of the camp-site, and settled down next to the kid. Cain had to admit, there was something more graceful, skilled about the way she moved, though she was relaxed enough to let her shoulders fall, her head hang back a little. The conversation struck up almost immediately, and though he thought about moving closer to them, he decided against it, and stayed at the fringe of the camp, staring out into the darkness that had descended upon them.

It wasn't long before the corporal joined him, hands shoved in his pockets, and shoulders tense. The men nodded comfortably at each other, before the younger came to rest a few feet away, mimicking his counterpart's position and demeanor.

"Clear night," Hass commented.

Cain gave a slow nod. "Cold, too," he said.

"How long you figure we'll be in Central?" the corporal asked, keeping his voice low.

"I don't want to spend more than the night," he said, with a non-committal shrug. "Doubt we'll need to be stayin' any longer than that. You're sure the Missus won't mind puttin' us up?"

Hass almost smiled then, the easy half-grin of one remembering. "Cor's old homestead was a Resistance outpost long before I even met her. I think she'd probably be insulted if we didn't go to her for safe-keeping."

Cain hoped that Hass knew his wife. He didn't want to put the woman out when his empty flat would serve well enough for the twelve hours – or, with luck, less – that they would be in Central City. There wasn't much else to be said, as the sounds of quiet, idle talk drifted over from the other side of the fire. Cain cast a quick glance in the direction of DG and Tory, and just as he did, Tory's eyes widened at what DG told him, and his head snapped towards the two soldiers.

"Is she _serious_?" he asked, his voice squeaking slightly in raised disbelief.

Though Hass looked curiously towards Cain with an eyebrow raised, Cain only nodded once, very slowly, at the kid. He didn't say anything, watching as Tory turned back to DG and began to speak in a hushed tone, fast. Within moments, DG was laughing and nodding, and the two men standing off to the side had been forgotten once again.

"What's he talking about, Captain?"

Cain sighed heavily. "DG thought it'd be a good idea to let the kid in on her station before we got into the city," he said quickly, and quite unhappily. Though he knew it would do no good to let Tory figure things out on his own, he didn't like DG's open trust with him. There was something unsettling about the kid, the ease with which he handled things, his desire to learn what he could about the O.Z., his comfort with the strangers he'd found himself thrown together with. Although, Cain could almost understand why the last point was so easy for the kid... wasn't his own family now a former headcase, a Viewer, and a reluctant princess? Not the type of thing that was tied by blood; only shared experience, loss, loneliness could form that kind of bond... and what was the kid, if not lost and lonely?

"Do you really think Ambrose is gonna be able to send the kid back?" Hass asked, since they were on the subject.

Cain's lips settled into a scowl. "Not sure. My first thought was that the Mystic Man would've been able to help him," he admitted. "So aside from him, I guess Glitch'll have to do. If he doesn't know what to do himself, he'll know someone who can get the kid back."

"I didn't know Ambrose dabbled in alchemy," Hass said with a bit of a sly grin. He'd spent enough time at the palace to know that the advisor stuck his finger into a little bit of everything... his thirst for knowledge coinciding beautifully with his short attention span.

"Yeah, well," Cain said with a grumble. If their time constraints weren't so tight, he'd probably track down the right alchemist for the job himself – Ambrose certainly didn't need to be bothered with the extra burden of a precocious kid of sixteen-annuals, and DG probably wouldn't let him do anything _less. _He could probably assuage his guilty conscience, but the nattering in the back of his head was going to take a long time to die away. It couldn't be helped, however, and it was this grain of truth he fed his conscience now.

"I'll take the first watch," Cain said, wanting to bring the conversation – and his ever growing sense of discomfort – to an end. "I want to be on the road again by first light tomorrow."

"Yes, Captain."

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***

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"_I don't like this forest." Her voice sounded frightened to her own ears – she wasn't a scaredy-cat, but Jiminy! "Its dark, and creepy!" Even as she spoke the words, a cry in the night broke the silence around them, carried on the wind; it sent an awful shiver down her spine, and she stepped a little closer to Tin Woodsman... and his axe._

_The scarecrow was at her elbow. He was staring into the tunnel of trees; the road here was untended, overgrown and uneven, and it was a bane on his ability to walk. But the path of gold led through the dark forest, and it was the path they were going to take – follow the road, that's all she knew, and her new friends followed. Over the hill, and through the woods... _

"_I think it'll get darker before it gets lighter," Scarecrow said, quite sagely. With the canopy as thick as it was, the trees hugging the road as they did, it was more than a certainty. _

"_Do you suppose we'll meet any wild animals?" she asked, and immediately regretted the question, as the beastly cry called out again, closer, louded. _Stupid question, girl, stupid question,_ she told herself, repeating it in her head over and over until her query was answered unnecessarily. _

"_We might," said Tin Woodsman, absently. _

_Scarecrow fingered at the straw poking out from the cuffs of his stuffed work-shirt. "Animals that eat straw?" he asked so quietly, she barely heard him – maybe he, too, worried about silly questions._

_Tin Woodsman cleared his throat, trying not to sound annoyed, but she could hear it in his voice, that slight undertone to which Scarecrow was oblivious. "Some, but mostly lions, tigers, and bears."_

_She gulped at a lump in her throat that surfaced and seemed to make itself at home. _Bears, maybe, _she thought. But it was a forest, not a safari. A bear, strangely, she felt she could handle. The other two, she had no real fear of, like jumping into a bathtub knowing it was shark-free. _

_She would remind herself, later, to always check the bathwater for sharks._

_It took about fifteen minutes of slow plodding over the protruding roots and clumps of weeds before she realized they were being followed. It took another five minutes before she differentiated that to being _stalked_. A pair of luminescent eyes, reflecting what little light filtered in through the overhanging branches. They walked faster – Scarecrow managed to pull himself together enough to keep from tripping. _

_Soft, hungry growls followed them like chasing footsteps. Oddly sounding almost like a mocking chuckle, it terrified her. She was readying to break into a run, ready to drag Scarecrow by the arm if she had to, when it finally struck. A gigantic cat leapt into the path – the biggest mountain lion she'd ever seen. With a scream, she jumped backwards one step, then two._

_The cat stalked back and forth across the road, blocking the path as it eyed them, a cocky predator. The padding of its paws on the brick road reached her ears and turned her stomach. She grabbed for a hand, but found nothing – oh Gods, shouldn't there be a hand there? Soft and slim and pale... where was she?_

_Tin Woodsman held his axe out defensively in front of him, more a stave than a blade. The cat stopped its pacing, and in a movement too fast for any to catch, he shot upwards to standing, and was very suddenly, and very plainly, a man. He was thin, lithe, and his upper torso marred with tattoos. Again, she swallowed hard, too shocked to speak._

_The lion-man's lips twisted into a smirk, too amiable, too bone-chillingly friendly. The looked from the scarecrow to the tin man, skipping over her completely. "I'll fight you both together," he said confidently, raising both his fists, and falling into a fighting stance. _

_Her eyebrows shot up as her jaw dropped down. Neither Tin Woodsman or Scarecrow seemed to be ready to jump at the offer of two-on-one. With nervous glances to each other, muttering between them who would step up first, she saw what they missed. _

_The lion-man struck... and faster than she knew she could move, she reached down, grabbed a stick up off the ground, and cracked it down on the stranger's head!_

_He gave a sharp yelp, and his hands flew to his head, to defensively cover his offended crown. "What did you do that for?" he lamented, his voice cracking slightly. _

"_Back off, Jack!" she exclaimed, holding the stick up threateningly, ready to deliver another blow if necessary._

"_Well, you didn't have to go and hit me, didja?" he asked, and looked at her with sad eyes. Sad, familiar eyes..._

_She shook her head. "You're nothing but a great, big coward!" she declared, watching him as he rubbed his sore head. She glanced back at her companions to see if they agreed with her; both nodded, the scratch of straw and the creak of metal barely heard._

"_You're the one in need of courage, not me," he said cryptically._

_She frowned. "I beg your pardon?"_

"_Courage," he repeated. "You're gonna need it to know him when you see him."_

Wait a minute_, her mind cried. "What do you mean?" she demanded, stepping forward to the cowardly shapeshifter. "Know who?"_

_With a smirk, he said " –_

"DG," Cain whispered, "hey, wake up!" He was kneeling over her, and shaking her.

Batting him away, DG pulled herself quickly to sitting. She looked around – the fire had died down to smouldering wood and ash, popping and crackling quietly, banked up for the night, and both Hass and Tory were fast asleep. "Why did you wake me up?" she asked, her voice shaky with sleep as she rubbed her eyes furiously, the image of the coward burned into her mind.

"You were gettin' pretty loud," he told her. "Why were you dreamin' about the Furball?"

Her brow furrowed, and she glanced up at him, into his pale eyes. He looked slightly bemused, as if not sure to be worried or not. "Furball?" she asked, a little dazed still, but coming out of the fog. "You mean, Raw?"

Cain nodded seriously. "You were callin' out for him," he said slowly, put off by her confusion. "You weren't dreamin' about him?"

She began to shake her head, and then... no, she started to nod, but wait... her shoulders falling, she put her head in her hands. "I wasn't dreaming about _Raw_," she said slowly, "but it was him, sort of. Just like it was sort-of you, and kind-of Glitch. And a little-bit _me_. Its like... an old story," she finished lamely, unsure of how to explain it to him; his startled expression discouraged her from trying. "I don't know," she conceded. "Maybe I'm just crazy."

Cain chuckled low. "You aren't crazy," he said assuredly, and he moved from his kneeling position beside her, to sit down a little more comfortably. "A bit of a mystery, that's for sure, but we'll get it all unravelled yet, don't worry." He sounded confident, and his optimistic attitude worried her more than a little.

_Who are you, and what've you done with my Tin Man?_ she wondered, as she studied him with a small smile. There was nothing different, and as quickly as it had overcome him, it seemed to pass.

"Early mornin' tomorrow, you should settle back down," he said, looking down at her; emotionally, she could feel him trying to pull away, though he stayed in his physical place at her side.

DG sighed, frowning. She didn't want to go back to sleep just yet... or at all, really. Knowing, somehow, that her dream wouldn't pick back up, that she wouldn't hear what the strange shapeshifter had meant to say next. If her ancestress was sending her cryptic messages through her dreams again, as she had to guide DG through her encounters with the Outlanders the year before... wasn't there a better way? And _what_ was with the scarecrow, lumbering around like a lopsided bag of hay, and the literal tin man, like a walking junk-yard? And now a shapeshifting lion with a bully complex, a coward at heart... and Raw's name on her lips?

The more she tried to pick her dream apart, the more it slipped away, going, going...

Cain was watching her quietly when her mind finally returned to the present, and reality. "Thoughts gettin' the best of ya?" he asked with a small half-smile.

"Or something," she said with a shrug. She scooted closer to him, and when his lips turned down into a frown, and he opened his mouth to say something, she put a hand to his mouth, pressing all four fingers against his lips. "Don't, okay?" she said quietly, and moved her hand away, leaning in and bumping her lips against his. She gave him feather light kisses, and it took a long stretch of uncomfortable seconds for him to return them. She didn't intend much more; some part of her knew enough that even sex wouldn't drive her thoughts from her head. Her dream had shaken her, however, and she just wanted his closeness.

Just for a minute.

When DG pulled herself away from Cain, it was to see an incredibly smoky smirk spreading across his lips. But as she smiled at him, he seemed to remember himself, and with a subtle cough, he looked away from her, leaning away from her ever so slightly, as if physical distance could quell the sparks that still fizzled in the air between them.

She knew she had to keep him talking or he would send her back to bed with a sexily gruff command.

"Wyatt, I'm sorry about earlier," she said quickly, as he turned back to her to speak. He raised an eyebrow, at first unsure of what she meant; clarity, however, dawned fast, and he nodded his acceptance. "You _are_ right, I just don't like being wrong." She had to admit, it felt good to be able to open up to him, to bare everything, knowing he understood, and that he knew her, really, without her having to speak a word in defence.

Softly, he cleared his throat. "You weren't wrong, Deeg," he said. "There isn't anythin' wrong with worryin' about your sister. But, I can't deny that headin' back into the city is gonna be a big hassle, and I want us in and out as fast as possible. And unless you wanna start doin' magic tricks in front of the kid –"

With a reluctant sigh, DG interrupted him. "Are you going to tell me what your plan is yet?"

Cain frowned, his eyes flicking away to the sleeping bodies on the other side of the fire. When he looked back at her, his blue eyes spoke too many uncertainties for her liking. "I need to do some more thinkin' on it," he said after a moment of hesitation.

"As long as you don't go running off without telling me what you're going to do," she said, twisting her lips into an unsatisfied line. When he shrugged his shoulders, not really knowing what to say, she let out a resigned exhale. She knew he agreed to little, hated to promise. "I guess I'm just gonna have to settle for that, aren't I?"

Cain near-chuckled. "I'm afraid so, Princess."

She leaned in for another kiss, unable to stop the tiny smile that surfaced. "What a shame."

* * *

_Author's Note II: I don't know what got into me, but that was incredibly hard. I'm going to try to do better. Reviews are always nice, but whatev. :)_


	18. Chapter Eighteen

_Author's Note: I know, fast, eh? Here's some Jeb for Queen Isabella, who loves him so. _

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

Morning dawned clear and cold on Jeb's third morning in Byvasser. He might have awakened on his own to enjoy the mist that settled on the ground around them, hiding what lay in the distance from his sight, if it hadn't been for the boot that dug hard and fast into his leg with one swift, well-aimed kick.

"Up and at 'em, boys," announced the gravelly voice of the contact, the merchant Graham Hardy. "It's time to go."

Jeb grumbled to himself as he gathered up what few belongings he had, listening as Travers went about the same. Following in the same direction Hardy had disappeared in, they came to the outskirts of the village. An old cart trail that they'd discovered during their scout of the village was now seeing some of the use they'd noticed in the recent tracks and evidence of activity along the path; a large supply wagon blocked most of the trail, an ill-tempered bay-horse already harnessed and ready to go.

"Hop up in the back," Hardy commanded. "Its a _long_ drive. And mind them breakables."

Unlatching the tailgate and putting it down, Jeb climbed into the back of the wagon. If a person stood on the front step of the general store, watching them depart, Jeb couldn't quite make out – but he was almost certain he saw a glimpse of someone. After watching Byvasser disappear, he then sat through a half-day void of any conversation; he listened only to the jostle of the wagon, the snorting of the horse ahead of him, and the hacking and spitting of the merchant at the reins.

Jeb found that his thoughts were hard to focus, that he was skipping around his scattered mind like a headcase, constantly shifting from one thing to the next in a seemingly smooth flow of nonsense. It frustrated him to no end; by the time the suns had risen, offering light but no warmth from the frigid temperatures, he'd taken to watching for wildlife as a distraction, but he saw only a few birds. He was, however, seeing his breath until almost midday, puffs of warmth into the cold air. _August, really? Who would've thought?_

The cargo of the wagon was covered with a heavy sheet of canvas, and was securely tied down. What peeping had discovered was that the load was no more than basic supplies: rations, blankets, and medical supplies; however, the curious sound of the clinking of heavy metals caught Jeb's ears every time the wagon hit a rut, which was often.

By midday, they reached the swampy borders of the lake country. Jeb recognised the terrain, if not the specific location; they were veering too far east for the beacon of the white elm to call out to him, signalling the cabin that had been his home for a short time, and where Adora Cain lay, buried peacefully.

There wasn't much time for quiet contemplation of his mother, however, or of the broken Cains, scattered to the winds, fatefully reunited and hopelessly intertwined with the lives of two princesses. The new task of keeping the wagon from becoming stuck in the mud became his new preoccupation. The trail that cut through the swamp was in a state of half-frozen muskeg and muddy slush, and the going was slow. Within a half-hour, Jeb and Travers found themselves ankle deep in mud and swamp-grass, pushing hard on the back of the wagon as Hardy shouted orders at them from the head of the wagon.

Jeb pressed his back up against the tailgate of the wagon, giving a solid shove as his feet slipped underneath of him, never finding purchase. The wagon lurched forward and he fell into the cold mud, scraping his hands as he landed. Chuckling roughly to himself as he got up, he took Travers proffered hand and hauled himself to his feet.

"Missing the high-life yet?" Travers asked with a smirk.

Jeb rolled his eyes, but felt his jaw firming in a way reminiscent of his father. "That's enough of talk like that," he said. "Lets just get this beast outta the swamp, all right?"

Travers snorted a laugh, and heaved into the back of the wagon with his shoulder. Jeb followed suit, and with many a grunt of effort, they got the supply wagon through the marsh. Solid ground was a blessing underneath their feet, and the two men walked behind the wagon now, soaked to the skin and dirty as mobats, using the exercise as a way to keep warm.

Hours passed, long, hard hours of pushing the wagon over one obstacle or removing another from obstructing the way; the trail didn't seem to be used that much this far south, if the debris they found strewn across the path was any indication – broken branches and fallen trees were a constant hassle, once they got closer to the forest, and the countryside dried out a bit. It was late afternoon, and the suns were moving slowly overhead, readying to descend in the East, when they finally came into contact with the Longcoats waiting for the supplies.

Two men, heavily armed, stood slightly behind a third, who waited with his hands clasped neatly behind his back, his feet spread shoulder-width apart. "You keep me waiting, Hardy!" the officer in front called out. He was younger than the two who stood behind him, but his tone was commanding, his posture assured.

"Got a bit of extra load to haul this time around, Cole! No hurry, though, no hurry," Graham Hardy exclaimed heartily, laughing long and loud. He didn't seem to worry about attracting any attention to himself; who in the Gods-forsaken middle of nowhere would hear them anyway? Jeb kept his head down, though he desperately wanted to study the Coats that were standing two dozen yards away, studying the dirty backs of his hands instead.

"Who's that you got there?" the Longcoat called Cole asked, stepping forward and circling the wagon to where the two young men sat on the tailgate. Neither of the two young soldiers said anything, Travers looking out into the trees that surrounded them; Jeb, however, had the nerve to look up challengingly at Cole.

"Heard these two mutterin' some pretty interesting things in the tavern the other night," Hardy said, jerking his head to the two soldiers on the back of his wagon. "Thought they might come in useful to ya."

"Since when did you become a recruitment officer, Hardy?" Cole asked, as if he found the thought funny.

"Thought I might give ya a hand, since your business has been so welcome. Worst case scenario, you can kill them once they're done unloadin' the wagon for ya," Graham Hardy said with a cackle. "At any rate, they're outta Byvasser and outta my hair. Consider 'em a gift, if you will, for your Lady." With surprising agility, the heavy-set man hefted himself out of the driver's seat and down to the grass. "Payment as usual," he announced, "and then I'll be on my way."

"I should kill all three of you right now," Cole said coldly, his shoulders tensing. He glared at Hardy.

"You don't wanna be doing that," Jeb spoke up. Cole's hard eyes shot to him, and the Longcoat stalked forward a few paces, until he was directly in front of where Jeb sat on the back of the wagon.

"Why's that?" Cole berated. "You have no idea the trouble you're about to get yourself into. What are you even doing here, kid?"

Jeb smirked. Why not start this off with the good, old, honest truth?

"Look, I don't know what I'm doing here," he said, his tension evident in his voice, but it added something, he felt. "Seems like every time I stop to take a minute to look around, life has dropped me somewhere different." The iron suit they'd shoved him into after killing his mother swam to the forefront of his mind, but he pushed the memory down. "Somehow, without even trying, I end up in places like this. Whatever trouble I'm about to get into, it isn't gonna be any worse than the trouble I've already _been_ in."

Behind him, Travers subtly cleared his throat. Jeb ignored him.

Cole's sneer had turned into a cunning half-smile.

"Listen," Jeb continued, cocking an eyebrow, "I fought with the Resistance to take Azkadellia out of power, and _that_ hasn't happened yet, and I heard a rumour that there's a new movement out there to _make_ it happen." He'd spent the better part of the last three days formulating his cover story, and with the memory of growing up hating the Sorceress and the Longcoats, he made it believable... though the lies left him feeling empty, and missing what he knew to be true.

Cole nodded slowly, his eyes going from Jeb to the soldier who sat apart from him. "Well, the road only gets worse from here, boys," he said, with a rueful grin. "Unfortunately, we've got to send Mister Hardy back with his horse." He paused, shook his head and chuckled, smug and superior in his position over these new underlings. "This supply wagon needs to make it back to camp."

Jeb got slowly off the tailgate, while his partner stayed seated. On the ground, he was at level eye contact with Cole, and it made him feel a bit braver. Firm ground beneath his feet helped some, though the darkness of the forest behind the Longcoats, the direction of the camp, didn't exactly boost his confidence; nor did the nasty gut feeling he got from Cole.

"Get pushing," Cole said with a smirk, seemingly amused at Jeb's cockiness. "But don't start feeling too lucky just yet. We'll most likely kill you in the morning."

As Hardy was paid, and he walked off, leading his horse by the reins with a self-satisfied grin on his face, Jeb shoved the tailgate up, latching it. Strangely, luckily, things were going according to plan... though he didn't know how long that luck would hold out. Someone at the camp, eventually, was bound to recognise him; he had, after all, spent almost ten months walking discreetly behind Azkadellia.

Jeb, however, had spent a lifetime learning how to cross his gorges as he came to them.

* * *

***

* * *

A little curiously, DG found herself admitting that the towers of Central City were a welcome sight. The late afternoon light from the double suns was causing the metal and glass of each and every building and rooftop to shimmer and shine, dancing hazily in the distance like a mirage, as amazingly beautiful as the first time she'd ever laid eyes on it... her fresh, Kansan eyes, anyway, as she had no memory of seeing it as a child, though she had, she knew she had.

She stood, leaning against a wooden support post, watching the pretty picture calling out to her artist's eyes. Instructed gruffly by Cain to stay out of the way and not attract any attention, she had to tilt her head back slightly to see out past the brim of the hat she'd jammed down over her hair. The suns were bright, but they were at her back, doing little to cut through the chilled air of the afternoon. It felt uncomfortably like autumn... the scent of fall was on the air, though the trees still boasted a hundred shades of green.

The men were inside the stable, putting the horses up for their overnight stay. They'd made better time than expected, thanks to the early start, and Cain had slowed their pace down, now that the city was in sight. He and Hass were taking the time to give the horses a good brush and massage, and Tory had traded his fifty-seven cents of Other Side currency for a few apples.

DG, overhearing the exchange take place, giggled quietly to herself, as the stable boy ran over to the stable master. "Hey, Pop! Look at these!" She surreptitiously watched as the father took the coins from his son, holding them up and studying them, so they caught the light, silver and copper shining brightly. With a rough command, the father handed back the change and nudged his son's shoulder. As the boy ran back inside, getting back to work, DG watched as the older man glanced suspiciously back into the stable, where the group of strangers the teenage Other Sider belonged to were watering their horses.

It was less than ten minutes later that the men were joining her, Tory lagging behind last. DG picked her pack up off the ground, waiting as Cain took the lead. She followed behind him, Tory at her side, and Hass coming up last; she kept her head down and her coat collar turned up against the cold to hide behind. A gradual decline in the Brick Route ambled a familiar path to the city. The guards at the gates were going to cause a problem, of that she was sure. She didn't want to use her magic in front of the kid – and she knew Cain would agree with her on that – so there was no way to make her face, or Cain's, unrecognisable.

The men guarding the gates, however, were easily distracted. As Hass and Cain shot the breeze for a few minutes, joking easily about the unseasonably cold weather, the upcoming Harvest celebrations, news out of the palace (where things had been quiet recently) and out of the South (where things were even more quiet), DG grabbed Tory by the hand and hurried him through the gate and onto Primavia Boulevard, the main thoroughfare that ran the full circle of the city's interior perimeter. The busy crowd swallowed the two up, and they hid in the shadows of a deep-alcoved doorway until the gate-guards let the two soldiers go. But when only Cain joined DG and Tory, her eyebrows perked up in question.

"What happened to Hass?" she asked.

Cain frowned, looking around. The shadowy streets of Central City were filled with the day's-end rush hour traffic, the side-walks crowded with pedestrians, the streets lined with cars moving steadily towards their destinations. Just a normal day, any old everyday.

"Gone to scout ahead," Cain said, his eyes still roving the crowd, though for what, she didn't exactly know.

Hass had gone ahead to warn his wife of the impending arrival. It hit DG then, that they'd _made it_ to Central City. They were within the city gates; there was familiar stale taste to the air, like tarnish on her tongue. Looking around, she watched the citizens go about their lives; these people moved easier, their shoulders higher than the inhabitants of the city a year before, before the Eclipse, when she'd arrived here, smuggled in under a pile of blankets... kind of appropriate that she'd spirited through undetected again.

_Someone should really look into city security, _she thought absently, watching the beautiful peacock plumage of a passing hat bounce and wave at her. With a sigh, and a frown, she glanced toward Cain, and then at the kid, in his sweatshirt and jeans, realizing that, for the first time, she wasn't going to be the one drawing attention.

"Shall we?" she offered, wanting to get out of the dark space she'd considered safe only moments before. Cain nodded grimly, motioning for her to stay close behind. She had to follow him, she didn't know the way – almost a year of living in Central City, of staring down at the streets below every night from her thirtieth-story bedroom, and she still had a tourist's knowledge of the city: the locations of major civic centers and landmarks, the general outlay of the seven districts, that the Central Palace, Alta Torretta, stood benevolently in the center of the well-planned chaos of the city, a beacon, the tallest tower... the heart of the O.Z.

With the heavy traffic, and the bizarre city layout, it took almost an hour to reach the other end of the city on foot. The complex in which Hass lived was located on the northern wall, overlooking the lake. Stairs cut straight into the wall led to an empty stone courtyard on the second-level of the city. Nothing grew in the beds and planters, and the sight of the barren flower-boxes made her a little melancholy. The cold was killing everything that had kept a tenuous hold during the summer.

Cain opened a door at the other end of the courtyard, and they left the bustle of the city – still heard over the stone privacy wall – behind as the door shut at their backs, closing them off inside. The hallways were narrow and dim, the entire building compacted like every other to accommodate the masses of citizens that lived within the city gates. It was warm, however, and DG felt safe. That was enough for her, though she hoped it would be enough for Wyatt.

The apartment door was slightly ajar when they finally reached it. DG felt her pulse quicken slightly, watching as Cain's hand shot down to his holster, his thick fingers firmly wrapping around the grip of his revolver. This visual warning, one she didn't realize she'd come to rely on, caused her fingertips start to tingle as her restless magic reacted to perceived danger. But when Cain pushed on the door, it gave a loud creak, and there was a call from inside.

"It's all clear, Captain." Hass's voice.

Cain sighed heavily, his shoulders lowering a bit as his tense position relaxed. Though he motioned for her to stay put as he went in to check the place over, as soon as he'd disappeared, DG ushered Tory inside and shut the door; it took her a moment longer to figure out the series of locks – there were four, and the last two seemed interconnected – and by the time she'd gotten it, Cain had finished his lap, and glared, unimpressed, upon first sight of her.

"What?" she asked him with a grin, trying to diffuse him before he made a comment about her ability to listen.

"Hass is in the kitchen with the missus," he said with a jerk of his head. Tory was off first, fine with Cain's word that the place was safe, and probably looking for a place to sit down. Alone with Cain, DG hung back.

"Mad at me?" she asked, with a small nod towards the door.

"I'll get over it," he said, and the corner of his mouth twitched in an almost-smile. He put a hand on the small of her back to give her a nudge in the direction of the others, not wanting to linger... or to leave up to assumption what they might be doing in a darkened doorway.

The kitchen was small; the apartment was situated on the south side of the building that looked out onto the city, so at this time of day, it would have been dim and dusky. However, all the lights were blazing and the room was bright. Hugging her pack tighter on her shoulder, DG looked around. It was clean, though slightly cluttered, the life of the couple overflowing in the small apartment. A table too big for the room took up most of the space at the far end, as many chairs gathered around it as possible, minus an empty for one. At the table sat Tory, who was watching with an amused grin, as Cordelia Hass bent over her husband, holding a handkerchief to his eyebrow as he sat in the missing chair near the icebox.

"Damn well serves you right," she muttered. Hass's back was to the doorway in which Cain and DG stood, but when Cor pulled the handkerchief away momentarily to turn it over and press the clean side down against his face, DG saw a small streak of blood.

"What happened?" DG asked.

All heads in the room turned towards the door. Cain cleared his throat uncomfortably at suddenly becoming the center of attention; he tugged his hat slightly lower, and stood back half a step.

Cor gave her guests a flash of a brilliant smile before turning her concerned, and somewhat frustrated, face back to her husband. She was frowning, and her brow was furrowed. "I'm gonna have to stitch it, Jere," she told him.

Hass batted her hand away, taking the handkerchief from her to hold it to his own injury. "It doesn't need to be stitched, and if it does, it means you hit me too hard," he grumbled.

"It'll teach you to knock on the door like a normal person instead of trying to sneak in like a thief," she shot back. Cor straightened, and turned to DG. She hesitated for a moment, before taking a deep breath and going about what needed to be said.

"Well, you've had a couple of days on the road," Cor said, looking around to include both Cain and the kid. "Please take what time you've got to rest. It's been too quiet 'round here... although, a little warning next time might be nice," she said pointedly, turning to glare at her husband. Hass grinned sheepishly.

Sighing, Cor shook her head and turned back to DG. "I can show you a room if you'd like. You can put your bag down, take your shoes off. The bed is made up, as well, if you'd like to lie down." She said all this as DG followed her out of the kitchen, down a short hallway that led to the rest of the flat. A door opened into a small bedroom, a single bed, and a table and lamp, a dresser and a mirror.

DG smiled, wholly appreciative. "Thank you," she said. She followed Cordelia into the bedroom, setting her pack down on the floor near the foot of the bed. As Cordelia crossed the room to open the tiny window, to let in some fresh air, DG cleared her throat, not wanting the woman to go out of her way just because she had a princess in her spare bedroom, but not knowing how to turn down the hospitality without seeming rude or ungrateful.

"Thank you for hiding us," DG said honestly, though unsure if it was the right thing to say. "Its nice to know there are still safe places to go."

Cor turned away from the window, and though there was a smile on her face, there was a strange, far-off look in her eyes that reminded DG of something she'd seen in Jeb's eyes. The look of resistance, and what it did to a person. It made her sad, despite the happy smile on Cordelia's lips.

"Our home will always be safe for you and yours," Cor said with a shrug. "Although, who knows, may not need safe houses much anymore."

DG nodded, and tried to offer an encouraging smile. Evidence that her sister was once again being accepted by the subjects of the Zone... they believed that peace was coming, a long earned reward after the nine-annual rule of the Sorceress and the annual of rebuilding that continued on... if destroying the Emerald would help put an end, once and for all, to the threat of the Longcoat army, the hidden threat that most of the O.Z. knew nothing about.

"You'll want the captain to stay with you, I assume," Cordelia continued on, completely unaware of the darkness within the princess's mind. "The washroom is across the hall. I'll get some supper on as soon as I corner Jeremy and get that cut cleaned out."

"Thanks," DG said again, her smile widening, the ease and comfort on Cordelia's face almost contagious, though it wasn't enough to fully banish her uneasy thoughts. "I'd love to help with supper. I'm going to need to keep my hands busy tonight." She stopped talking there, unsure of what to say, what to keep to herself. With one more rushed smile, Cordelia disappeared and closed the door behind her.

DG went about digging through her bag for her hairbrush, and didn't turn when she heard the door open and close. Only Cain would come in without knocking, and surely enough, his familiar, big hands placed themselves on her hips. Abandoning the quest for the brush, she straightened and turned, to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him as he held her, in complete silence; a moment to breathe, relax, just a moment. They both smelled of dust and smoke, of sweat and horse, after two days on the road since leaving the Realm.

"Are you going to see Glitch right away?" she asked him, breaking the quiet with words muffled into his collar.

"Not right away," he said. "Once the public floors are closed, and the crowds die down at bit, I'll head to the palace."

She sighed softly, secretly hoping that Glitch wouldn't allow Cain to leave the palace without following him to where she now hid. She missed her friend; a half-crazed idea to kidnap him and drag him along on this stupid adventure crossed her mind, but she shoved it away. Wishful thinking, that's all it was... although, sometimes they could really use his brain...

"I'm gonna get cleaned up," Cain whispered, "and then rest for a while."

DG tightened her grip about his shoulders, not about to let him get away that easily. "You haven't told me what your plan is yet."

"I don't exactly have a plan, Darlin'," he said; he released her slightly, so that she pulled back, but he didn't let her go, and made sure she was looking up at him, her wide blue eyes locked onto his. "I've got some words I'd like to have with the old gardener, that's all."

She frowned, running what he'd said over in her head. _The old gardener?_ she wondered, confused... but then it clicked, like a puzzle piece fitting into place. Jowan, the caretaker who'd helped the Queen's soldier's escape from the Commander's underground complex.

"Why do you need to talk to Jowan?" she asked. "Do you think he knows how we're supposed to find the outlanders?"

"I think he's our best bet." Cain's face was stone serious, and his resolution both impressed and worried her.

She searched his eyes, shaking her head slightly. Clarity was coming to her, but it made her mind and her understanding of the situation a complete mess. "Even if he does, how do you know he's going to help us?"

"I've just got a feelin'," Cain said, quite assuredly.

"That's not a real answer!" DG insisted. To say that she was beginning to get impatient was an understatement; she was growing angry at his instincts, which she'd learned to trust long ago, but which still constantly battled against her own.

Cain glared down at her hard. "The old man and I had a discussion on such a subject, more than once," he said vaguely. "He's our way into the West to find the outlanders, I'm sure of it. Don't argue me on it, just wait and see."

"Are you saying you think he's someone that can be trusted?" she asked delicately. His eyes pierced into her. She glared up at him just as fiercely, so damn mad at him and his _'just wait and see' _that she was sure that sparks would start shooting from her eyes if her temper flared any more.

"Are you sayin' you don't trust _me_?" Cain retaliated, a hint of a growl in his undertone.

DG opened her mouth to say something, but realized there was no answer to his question; no _right_ answer, at any rate, and he had a point. Yes, she trusted him, relied on his judgement and common sense more than she cared to admit. Still angry at him, she jerked herself away, logic weighing out over her mind but her body still controlled by emotion.

Ignoring Cain, and the bite of blue eyes she could feel, she searched through her mind for what she knew. The old man had _helped_ them, hadn't he? Put his life at risk, to help the Queen of the land of his birth. It just... well, she just didn't _like_ it, a feeling she couldn't even explain to herself. But how many times in the last four days had Cain told her he didn't _like_ what was happening, both in and out of their control? He'd complained, made his opinions known, but he hadn't interfered... shouldn't she give him that same courtesy now?

Damn it all to hell, Cain _was_ right. If anyone was their route into the West, it would be the old man. Frowning up at the Tin Man now, she conceded, a great blow to her pride. "Yes, I trust you," she said quietly, and Wyatt sighed, as if he'd been worried about her answer. She had a thousand smart-ass comments lined up, but she kept them to herself. "I'm going to get washed up, then go help with supper," she told him, her voice quiet, restrained. She wasn't sure what more there was to say... they'd almost-fought and she was wrong, what more _was_ there to say?

"Deeg," he said slowly, but she held up a hand to cut him off.

"It's okay," she said shortly. She was cooling off, but it was going to take some time. Desperately, she sought the distraction of menial tasks, to wash her face and brush her hair. She should feel relieved, that the next step was lining up to be an easy one, to find the outlanders, to speak to the Commander. That task, looming heavy and dark, unnerved her. She hated not knowing what to expect – and this journey was turning out to be nothing but blind corners.

She grabbed her pack and left the room without another word. In the tiny closet of a bathroom, she changed into the last of her clean clothes, and brushed the tangles out of her hair. She filled the sink with warm water, and began to wash the grime from her face and hands, the water tingeing slightly black by the time she'd finished. Pulling the plug, she emptied the sink, and wiped around the edges with her cloth, making sure to leave the room as clean as when she'd come in. Really, she wasn't made to be a princess...

"_Almost there."_

DG's eyes widened at the voice, and she straightened to see the pretty, dark-haired girl in the mirror smiling softly at her, where her own reflection should be. DG fought the urge to scream, and stared hard, wanting to call for Cain; instead, letting the curious part of her take charge, she leaned in a little more, studying the face that watched her.

The girl in the mirror looked so, so similar to herself, it was almost unreal. The girl resembled her more, could have better passed for her sister than Azkadellia did.

"Who are you?" DG asked the girl in the mirror, her whisper turning to a hiss as she tried to keep her voice down. She reached forward to touch the glass, hesitating with her fingers mere inches away. The girl in the mirror raised her own hand, pressed it flat against her side of the mirror, her fingers splayed out.

"_You're almost there. Just keep going,"_ the girl in the mirror encouraged, her words that echoed out in the room – or maybe just in DG's head – out of sync with the movement of her lips. The voice was tinny, coming through a bad connection, and DG frowned, missing the sight of herself and wishing away this girl who was _almost_ herself.

"Who _are _you?" DG repeated suspiciously.

The girl cast her dark brown eyes to the hand she held up against the mirror, and then her eyes flicked slightly down to look at DG's own fingers, hovering a mere inch now above the glass. With a smile that curled her lips upward prettily, the girl in the mirror shifted, slipped away, and DG was left staring at herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, holding a hand foolishly over the mirror.

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_Author's Note II: I forgot to edit in last time that the cast page had been updated to include Mrs. Cordelia Hass (direct link on my profile page). Reviews are love!_


	19. Chapter Nineteen

_Author's Note: This is me, keeping up the long wait for ridiculously long chapters. Hopefully, what I actually wrote makes up for it. Enjoy!_

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**Chapter Nineteen**

Wyatt Cain awoke to semi-darkness. The thick grey haze of dusk had settled about the guest bedroom; the outline of the small window was the brightest spot in the room, a square of faintly whiter light on the opposite wall. It took a moment for him to realize that what had awoken him was the sound of footsteps outside the door, and barely seconds after his ears had keened to this sound, the knob was turned and the door opened carefully.

It was DG, and she was trying to be quiet. He knew, without a doubt, the familiar sound of her footfalls, light and hesitant. The soft _click_ of the door followed as she closed it behind her, and then she paused. Whether she was letting her eyes adjust, or if she was hanging back with her body pressed against the door, he wasn't sure. Without moving, he listened to her, concentrating on keeping his breathing steady.

It bothered him more than it should, that she lingered at the door. Her caution around him only magnified the fact that she was still jumpy over the spat they'd had. When she'd slammed the door, it had taken most of what restraint he had not to wrench it open and chase after her. It wasn't that he'd been interested in finishing the conversation she'd just put an end to – in all honesty, he was glad it was over – but it was the fact that she thought closing a door between them, distancing herself physically from him would calm down the anger and emotion that had just been stirred up into the air.

As Cain stayed completely still, he tried to judge how she was rightly feeling; the more seconds that ticked away, the more certain he became that she still wasn't feeling back to normal. A long moment passed, and she stepped away from the door, crossing the room with quiet, barefoot steps. She stopped at the edge of the mattress, pressing her knees upon it to lean over him. She reached out, her hand inches from his chest, her eyes unadjusted to the dim light; she didn't see that his eyes were open, or that he watched her.

When she gripped his shoulder to shake him awake, quick as lightning he half-sat up, snaking an arm around her waist to haul her down on top of him. She stiffened in shock, a cry escaping from her lips that ended in a nervous laugh, as he rolled on his side to tuck her into the cradle of his arm, effectively trapping her between his body and the bed.

DG didn't say anything, instead trying to get up and away from him. It was a futile attempt, just for show, an empty threat. He smiled in the darkness as she relaxed into his embrace, pushing up on his chest. She was soft and supple in his arms, but her breathing was shallow and uneven. He'd scared her more than he'd intended.

Cain sighed. She might have relaxed, but her mind was still behind them. The argument, that she'd stormed off and had encountered another visit from the strange reflection. She was shaking, when she'd returned to their room to put her things away, and she'd barely looked him in the eye as she'd explained what had happened, what she'd been told.

"You're already awake," she pointed out now. There was nothing in her voice that hinted she might be smiling.

"What gave it away?" he asked her; if she'd come to wake him up, it meant that the time for him to head to the palace had come. He didn't have time to whisper reassurances to her; he wanted nothing more than to put it behind them so that he could focus on the task at hand without having to worry about her. If he had to put his worry for her aside to sufficiently do what needed to be done, he knew, without much internal debate, that she'd notice and drift a little farther away herself.

It was better now to fix it, than to try and clean up a bigger mess later.

"You could've said something," she said unhappily, reaffirming his concerns.

Cain smiled, a little crookedly. "And miss an opportunity like that?"

She huffed indignantly, and made to get up again, pushing a little harder on his shoulder. With a low rumble in the back of his throat, frustrated with the time constraints and her desire to dance around him, he pushed back, leaning her into the mattress with his weight. She gave a small gasp of surprise to find herself completely pinned, with only her left arm free to move without restraint. When she wriggled again, he found her hand with his and held it down to the bed above their heads, trapping her beneath him.

"Still want to fight, eh?"

An aggravated growl escaped her. "No, I don't!"

"Then stop squirmin', and settle down for a second, would ya?" he asked gently. Every moment of darkness that passed while he was in this room was a moment wasted – not the way he wanted it to be, with her quivering against him and rolling her hips against his as she tried to wiggle out of his grasp. But he wanted nothing more than to leave her like that so he could get to the palace and get talking to the old man over and done with.

She took his words to heart, and became completely still. Her body shivered, as he lowered his face to hers, breathing in the scent of her, clean and fresh, like the air about a Finaquan field in sunslight, fair and pure. He could feel her exhaustion, it echoed what he felt in his own marrow, bodies that desired a good, long rest. Time for that would come, but for now, he needed to get out onto the street, into the evening. He found himself hoping that all it was going to take was one little chat, that he wouldn't need to be doing any convincing, that Jowan would be easily swayed to their cause.

Too much hoping for his liking.

"Cain," she said nervously, bringing him back to where he was – weighing DG down into their borrowed bed, his face an inch from hers as he stretched her body out beside him, keeping her compliant and right where he wanted her. With a long, slow exhale, he relaxed his grip on the hand he held above their heads, expecting her to jerk her arm back, but she didn't. Instead, she stayed exactly where she was, staring up at him with blue eyes he was sure he could have seen himself reflected in, had the light allowed it.

"This shouldn't take more than a few hours," he told her. "You gonna wait for me?"

DG let out a sharp laugh, and she twisted her hand in his to entwine their fingers. "I waited ten months for you to finish chasing Longcoats," she said, sounding more than a little insulted at his question; he imagined her rolling those big blues at him. "I think I can handle a couple of hours without you."

Cain smirked. There was some of that sass of hers. He nudged her head to the side with his own, lowering his lips to the slope of her neck to place a small, warm kiss, to suck softly on her creamy flesh, until she was writhing beneath him again, her skin prickling as he pulled away to breathe over the tenderized spot. There wasn't a single part of his body that fancied letting her go, getting off the bed at all – except, of course, his common sense, which his heart and groin kept growling at to shut the hell up. He released her hand to move his own down to cup her face in his palm, to turn her towards him and kiss her lips fully. The sweet taste of her spread across his tongue as he delved into her mouth, to plunder and explore. He took into himself her eager moan. Arousal was getting the better of him, and he tore himself away from the kiss he'd initiated, before he found himself spending more time than he had to make love to her.

"Wow," DG breathed, a little dazedly, as he pushed up on one arm, bracing himself above her. "Um, what was that for?"

Lifting himself away from her, he sat on the edge of the bed. "Good measure," he told her, leaning down to pull on his boots. He felt her move on the bed behind him, and when he finished with his boots and sat upright once again, she brought herself closer, placing a knee on either side of his hips, and wrapping her arms around his neck as she pressed her breasts into his back.

"Will you tell me everything when you get back?" she asked nonchalantly.

He turned his head to look at her, though in the darkness, there wasn't much to see, but for the pale outline of her face. "Darlin', you don't even have to ask," he reassured her, and kissed her lips quickly again. He could sense her need, almost taste it, the faintest trace. There was guilt at leaving her like this, but he pushed it away; it did no good to concentrate on anything but the work he had to do. DG would keep until he returned.

He barely stopped to nod politely at the others congregated in the kitchen, shrugging his shoulders into his duster as he went. He motioned his head for Hass to follow him, and the young corporal stood by, somewhat nervously, as Cain placed his hat on his head, angling the brim down over his eyes.

"Not one of you leaves," Cain said firmly, glancing cool blue eyes toward Hass. "Especially the kid." The look of restlessness in Tory's eyes as he'd passed hadn't sat right with him, the look of someone searching for a quiet, back way out. "You got me, Corporal?"

Hass cleared his throat. "Yes, sir," he said, and Cain could see, lifting like a blindfold, the false sense of security that being home had brought him. The young man straightened a little, squaring his shoulders; serious set in, and he remembered that he was still on duty.

"Gods willin', it'll be a few hours at the most," Cain said absently, as he removed his gun from the holster to double check the rounds. However long it took him to track down Ambrose, after speaking with the old caretaker, was another problem all together. He might end up tacking another couple of hours onto his estimated time-frame.

He'd best get moving.

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Darkness fell ridiculously early in the Black Forest.

By five in the afternoon, the temperature had dropped considerably, and Jeb could barely see a foot in front of his face. Torches were lit by the two armed Longcoat grunts, while the leader, Cole, stood by and watched with a nastily self-satisfied smirk.

Jeb lost track of the hours as the rough trail that cut through the thick forest went on and on; the optimistic side of him tried to point out that at least the ground was dry and solid, and they'd left the marshes behind. Trees towered with far reaching branches, broad leaves shading any rays of the twin suns, leaving only a dome of whitish light filtering through the canopy. Eventually, the bright haze of light high above his head dimmed, then faded into a blackness as thorough as the one that was surrounding him.

There were bruises on his shoulders that he was certain would never completely fade, thick splinters in his hands, and a twinge in his ankle that shot pain upwards to his knee every time his foot stepped unevenly on a root or rock in the path – which was often. Ahead of him, at the front of the wagon, he could hear Travers cursing, as he tried his best to guide spoked wheels without crushing his fingers.

Jeb was glad for the darkness around him as the last in the train; the Longcoats ahead lighting the way with their torches were farther spaced from him, he could only hear the murmur of their voices and not the words they spoke. Though his duty was to listen, and learn what he could from these damn 'Coats, within him was a rage that still needed to be dealt with, an after-effect of the emotions he was forcing himself to recall.

Better to get it out now, and to take it out on the damn wagon. A hollow, empty shell of man would reach the Longcoat camp, and he'd be better off for it.

"_If you don't have heart, you have nothing."_

Heart would do him no good here. Brains, courage – these things he could use.

There was also the problem of the guilt he felt inside – a gnaw at the back of his mind that refused to go away. Azkadellia; the thoughts usually didn't go much farther than her name echoing inside of his head. There wasn't much else he could allow himself; he didn't know what to feel. He didn't miss her – he was too distracted. He didn't wish for her – he had too much work yet to do.

So... her name, and that was all – sometimes a promise to himself to think about her later, to figure out the tumult in his mind that was forcing away the desire to focus on her.

When Jeb tripped, and finally twisted his ankle, it was on a broken brick jutting out of the path. The colour of it melted into nothing in the barely-there light from the torches ahead, but Jeb had a feeling it was a familiar yellow, the pale suns-baked gold. They had come to a junction, the rugged trail they followed ending in an ancient section of straighter road.

Jeb was curious. _I didn't know there were sections of Brick Route this far into the Forest,_ he thought, as he stopped shoving on the back-end of the wagon, and bent down to pick up the broken chunk of brick that had turned his ankle. He hadn't given much thought, since entering the woods, to what he really knew about where he was headed.

The answer was short and sweet; he knew next to nothing, like every other person in the Zone... the borders of the Black Forest had been avoided by men, by Viewers, by anyone with a right mind in their head. No one in living memory could remember what or who had dwelt within its dark depths. Legends spoke of ancients that built gigantic stone temples in the closed heart of the forest. It was said to be enchanted... a place where magic was in the very air you breathed. But darkness covered every inch of the Black Forest.

It was in this Darkness, it was said, that the Light might shine the brightest.

"You on break?" Cole asked, jerking Jeb fast out of his distracted thoughts.

Jeb cleared his throat, before slowly getting to his feet. "No, sir," he said, and tossed the piece of brick aside, listening to it roll through the ground cover, and come to a halt. "A bit amazed there's road out this far is all."

"The roads aren't any concern of yours, Cain," Cole snapped, turning and heading back to his mount. At some point during this dark and dismal trek through the woods, they'd covered the 'Cain, you say? Son of _Wyatt_ Cain?'. Jeb had grit his teeth, spitting out that he respected his father, brave but foolish, but wasn't about to stand in the man's shadow. Wyatt Cain was duty-bound, a slave to his conscience and honour. He'd bitten his tongue then, looking at the ground, and amazedly, it had worked. Cole had taken him for another young soldier with daddy-issues out to make a name for himself, and walked away... for the time being, at least.

After a very long, grudgingly slow travelled half-hour, an odd sight caught Jeb's attention. Ahead on the wagon, in the tunnelled darkness of the forest road, a faint glimmering danced in the air. At first, Jeb thought the tiny, twinkling lights were fireflies, but the closer they got, he realized the lights were not live beings, but something more... magical.

Cole called out an order to halt. Glad for a moment's reprieve, Jeb leaned against the side of the wagon, resting on his sore shoulder. He watched the flickering lights with interest, noticing that Travers was doing the same, but none of their Longcoat companions seemed fazed by it.

"What d'ya make of it?" Travers asked him quietly.

Pushing off the side of the wagon, he shrugged his shoulders before crossing his arms across his chest. He'd seen more than enough magic in the past months in the Central palace to know that extreme caution should be used when even attempting to approach the barrier of deceptively benign light.

Cole caught him staring. "Something, that, ain't it?" he said, jerking his head toward the shield.

"Never seen anything like it," Jeb said, though he'd seen something similar once, on a smaller scale; the night he and DG had been captured by Outlanders in the Western mountains. It had been an impressive display, and he'd been in awe then, but seeing magic this considerable was intimidating, and he became hesitant, if even for the briefest moment.

The ancient section of the Brick Route that they'd been following continued straight, right through the shield, but it was not the way they were headed. Instead, they turned north, and began to walk the outside perimeter, where a rough path had been worn down, rocks and roots cleared from the trail to make the going a little easier. The darkness, as well, was alleviated, as the lights from the shield at their immediate left cast a pale, dim glow. Those lights were mesmerising, Jeb decided after a few minutes of blatant staring, and he decided his best bet was to keep his eyes on the ground as he continued to heave on the back-end of the wagon.

Eventually, they came across a crumbling stone structure, an ancient outer-defence wall, that began to run the length of the magical construct. It wasn't long before Jeb saw the first of the guards patrolling the wall, armed men watching the supply wagon and its escort with disinterest from the battlements. He counted over a dozen men by the time they reached the outer gate.

"Welcome to Shadow's Passage, men," Cole said with a smirk to his newest recruits. As the rusted portcullis was raised, the lights that danced in the air of the portal seemed to short out, then disappear. Cole passed through the gate without trouble, taking his leather gloves off his hands as he went, with the air of a man arriving home after a long day. Shaking the image out of his head, Jeb went back to shoving hard on the back of the wagon. He felt the static and warmth of magic in the air as he passed through the gatehouse, but he felt no touch of it upon his body.

Cole began barking orders the minute the gate had slammed down, sealing the men inside the shield. From this point, Jeb knew, there would be no turning back.

_I wonder when the point to turn around would have been? _his mind wondered absently, as he tried his best not to look around with too much interest.

"This road here leaves these ruins behind," Cole told them, "and follows back south to Deadwood Fall. The camp is on the edge of the temple grounds. Take these supplies to Quartermaster Briones. I'm sure he can keep you busy enough 'til the Lady returns... that is, if we let you live that long." The threat, to Jeb, felt stale, and he had no real worry. His ears perked with interest, however, at the mention of a mistress. Was it she who summoned the spell-shield that surrounded the center of the Black Forest?

There was the sound of a throat being cleared, and Jeb snapped out of his thoughts in time to see Travers staring pointedly at him. Their work wasn't done, they still had a few spans to travel before they reached their destination, the camp. This outpost would offer nothing to them.

Jeb slammed his shoulder hard into the wagon's tailgate, feeling the painful ache, and not at all surprised that he was actually looking forward to arriving at an enemy camp.

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Things were relatively quiet when Wyatt Cain arrived at Alta Torretta. The day – though he had no way of knowing this – had only had a small trickle of patrons and sightseers, and activities were returning to normal after the buzz of the Coronation and the celebrations that had followed.

The guard nodded absently at him as he passed through the intricate gates. With the glazed, tired look in the kid's eye, Cain wondered if the young man would even remember seeing him come the end of his shift. All the better.

Cain headed straight for the arboretum, knowing that this was where he'd find the old man this late. There was rarely anywhere else he'd ever seen Jowan in the palace, except for under the glass dome of the rooftop garden. After the meeting that had occurred in Cain's apartment, the night after his return to Central City from returning the Emerald to the Gale crypt, no other secret words had passed between them, and the old man had never given any indication he was anything but a harmless old gardener, handy with a trowel and not much else.

"_I put my life and the lives of my family on the line to help you rescue the royals. Is that not loyalty?"_

Something about the old man had raised an eyebrow in him, but nothing had ever sent the alarm bells ringing that normally signalled his instincts catching onto something his brain was a little slow to pick up. When Cain had heard from Ambrose – through an emergency dispatch sent by mounted courier – that DG had received a telegram with a warning message from the Commander, Cain's first reaction had been one of suspicion, leaning towards the caretaker.

But Jowan kept his head down, and never made a single wrong move, nothing to draw more than Cain's attention to himself. He befriended the other staff, caused the maids to giggle and blush, tied the tongues of the advisors with his observations and suggestions.

"_Where do you stand, Old Man?" _

"_Not as far on his side of the line as the Commander thinks. Perhaps not even on his side of the line at all."_

Entering the lift, Cain jammed his thumb onto the button, sighing with impatience as the gold doors slid closed. He could see himself reflected in the surface, a man who stood with his back straight and his hands on his belt, someone who looked worn and tired and stretched a mite too thin. His shoulders were weighed down, and he could almost see the physical burdens upon them. Sighing a second time, Cain looked down at the scuffed tops of his boots, and didn't raise his eyes again until the lift had come to a jerking halt and the doors had opened smoothly.

The arboretum reminded him of Finaqua after the scorching of the Sorceress, of the ghostly rows of the Papay fields. The trees lined a wide brick path that cut straight to the far end of the dome, where a hidden door in the glass walls led outside to the viewing deck. The brick walkways forked off in a dozen different directions, leading to fountains and small, private gardens. Though there were spotlights set into the gardens, none were illuminated, and the only lights that entered the dome were from the city outside, ghostly pale and twinkling in the glass like star-bursts.

Cain took a few tentative steps, testing how his boots sounded out on the brick floor; the echoes of his footfalls were low and dull, and he felt a little more confident in his furtive movements as he walked away from the lift, turning right and heading toward the office. The door was open, and bright light spilled out into the darkness outside of it. He hung back, leaning backward slightly to see into the office – though the light was on, and the desk was scattered with paperwork, and the faint, tinny sound of a radio could be heard, a tuneless murmur, the office was empty.

Cain sighed deeply, annoyance budding as he clenched his jaw in impatience.

"Something I can do for you, Captain?" called out the old man's voice.

Cain froze, before turning in the direction from which the voice had come. Stepping away from the wash of light, he could make out the figure of Jowan, crouched down under the shade of a healthy Fighting tree, lulled into passivity with spells set by the gardeners and their green magic. Even so, Cain stayed a few feet from the old man, beyond the reach of the gnarled, hanging branches, the light from the office door at his back.

"How ya been, Jowan?" Cain asked absently, not ready quite yet to get into all that had to be discussed.

"Can't complain, myself," the old man said, "though my trees don't seem to be doing too well. Not too sure, I spent a long time out of the Zone, but these look like woggle-beetle eggs." Cain had to squint to see the gardener holding up a branch that had been snapped off the tree – a sure sign, in any case, that the tree was safe, and wasn't going to take a swing at him or launch a foul-mouthed comment his way. Impractical, and downright dangerous, in Cain's mind at least, to have something so naturally unpredictable in the royal garden.

Jowan stood, stretching out his long limbs and standing straight and tall, instead of hunched over, the way Cain had met him. "It might do to have one of the advisors put me in touch with an entomologist. A beetle infestation would devastate this place." He tossed the broken chunk of wood to the brick path, and Cain listened to the wood bounce.

"Strange, that they'd be in the city at all," Cain said, referring to the insects. Peaceful, pretty little jewel beetles, as far as his recollection went; they'd do little more than chew unsightly holes in the leaves and glitter on the trunks and in the dirt.

The old man stalked past Cain, toward the office; Cain was close on his heels, and leaned in the office doorway as the old man went to the desk and started shuffling through the papers. While he was distracted, Cain studied him; his appearance was certainly healthier than what it had been an annual before, after the escape from the Commander's fortress, and Jowan's sudden arrival in Central City. Instead of the dirty rags he'd worn then, the old gardener wore the uniform of his station at the palace. He blended in too easily for Cain's liking, was too quiet, with ears that knew how to listen, and eyes that knew how – and _what_ – to see.

Jowan had yet to respond to Cain's comment, and the silence stretched on so long that Cain had stopped expecting one. When the old man did speak again, it was on a completely different subject, still with a tone of complete casualness, though each word he said was loaded, a story all its own.

"I'm a little surprised to see you, Capt. Cain," Jowan said, conversationally. "Both you and the young princess have been scarce about the palace since the Coronation. I was beginning to think you'd up and disappeared." He looked up, with a conspiratorial twinkle set in hazel eyes that belied his age.

Cain frowned, but managed to swallow the growl of frustration that accompanied it. He moved away from the door-frame and into the office properly, swaying a little on his feet in continued agitation. "The princess isn't any of your concern, Old Man," Cain said warningly.

Jowan chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "On the contrary, the princess is very much my concern. Might even go as far as to say my _sole_ concern, if you understand me," he said, turning his eyes on Cain again. "And, unless I'm mistaken, the fey child is why you're here, isn't she?"

Cain rolled his eyes. He'd thought the old man was dead-set on playing a game with him, but he was mistaken. "DG wants an audience with your boss," he said through clenched teeth. "I know you're not his only agent in the Zone, but I've got a feelin' that you're the safest bet."

Jowan's face had broken out into a nervous grin. "I'm your only bet," he pointed out. "She wants an _audience_, eh? That's an awful refined word when speaking about..." Here, he trailed off, and eyed the open doorway nervously. Cain turned around, following the old man's stare into the darkness beyond.

"Listen," Jowan said, not having to speak out loud that this was not the ideal place for this conversation. "The way into the West –"

"Tell me how to find him and I'll be on my way," Cain said by way of offering an easy way out.

Jowan sighed, shaking his head as he moved away from the desk, giving up on finding what he'd been looking for. "Its not that simple," he said. "There ain't no front door I can direct you to. You need a guide."

"Then you'll guide us," Cain snapped. This was going on for far too long.

Jowan was brushing past him and closing the door before Cain could take another breath. Whirling around fast, Jowan faced Cain, eye to eye, his stare hard and cold. There was an upwards curl of anger set upon his lips. "You want to let that kid walk up to him _without_ the stone?"

Cain growled, not liking that Jowan knew about the Emerald, and DG's dealings with the Commander, at all. "She wants formal negotiations to take place, something that's none of yours or my business," he reminded the old man. "Or are Outlanders past proper diplomacy?"

"You want me to risk revealing myself to help her?" Jowan asked, raising an eyebrow. The threat of being executed for treason was very real, both knew.

"Which side of the line are you willin' to die on, Old Man?" Cain asked.

The resigned groan that escaped the old man was long and loud, as he ran one hand through his shaggy grey hair. "You want to do this, Son, we do it my way," he said, squaring his jaw as he set his terms. The sheer force of his glare caused Cain's eyebrow to perk with curiosity. The old man was making it quite clear he didn't like what he was about to do; Cain frowned, knowing exactly how he felt.

"Meet me at the Western Gate of the city an hour before the first sun rises," Jowan said curtly, going back to his desk, his papers, and his shuffling. "It'll be three days hard travel; I hope you've broken 'er in already." Cain clenched his teeth, realizing that the old man meant DG. He said nothing, only nodded. He turned and left the office, resisting an urge to slam the door behind him.

An hour before the first sun rose... roughly eight hours away. And he still had to find Ambrose before heading back to the Hass' apartment, where he might be able to think about getting a bit more sleep, with DG curled up against him. The thought was enough to drive his feet a little faster, as he repositioned his hat on his head and took the stairs to the level where most of the advisors had their residences and studies.

Glitch, however, was impossible to locate. After checking his quarters, his office and those of his collegues, Cain was unsure of where to look. If there was a state dinner taking place on one of the lower floors, interrupting it would be a very bad move. He was risking exposure as it was, sneaking around the palace in his travelling clothes after disappearing for almost a week.

Cain decided to try the library. With his hat angled low over his face, he pushed the door open and quickly surveyed the massive room, filled with towering shelves and floor to ceiling windows that gave a breathtaking view of Central City's south-side. Long tables lined the windows, and it was at the end of this line of tables that a single light glowed, a reading lamp where a lone figure bent over the table.

A few strides into the long walk to the other end, it became blatantly aware that the huge hulk of man sitting at the table wasn't the lithe Glitch. It was Tutor, a small pair of reading glasses perched on his nose as he scanned the pages of the four books he had spread out in front of him; he wasn't sitting, but leaning over the table with his palms spread out flat to support his weight. It marked only the third time that Cain could recall being happy to see the magic instructor.

Cain cleared his throat as he approached, and the huge man jumped quite nimbly, surprised.

"Mr. Cain!" he exclaimed, breathing a sigh of relief at the familiar face.

"A little late night reading, Pooch?"

Tutor nodded slowly, waving a hand over the four books he was reading, and the stacks that had accumulated on the table before him, dozens of volumes in all. "Research, for Her Majesty. This is where I spend most of my nights."

Cain suppressed a chuckle; the loyalty of some knew no bounds – especially of someone who'd spent fifteen annuals imprisoned by a young, possessed princess. "You seen the headcase around?" he asked. "I've got a couple of things I want to discuss with him."

Tutor shook his head. "Master Ambrose and the Queen have gone to meet with General Andrus at the Tower," he recited sadly, frowning at the exasperated look that settled on Cain's features. "They should return by morning."

_Of course they have,_ Cain thought with a sigh that shook right through his whole body. _Nothin' would go easily, would it?_ He needed Glitch and his reassembled brain, someone whose experience reached far beyond his own. There would be no staying in Central City to wait to hand the kid, Tory, over to Ambrose. But there was no way in hell the kid was coming West, either... and they were leaving before first sunsrise.

"How do you feel about a walk, then?" he asked Tutor gruffly; the loose end the kid created was nagging at him, and he was going to have to do _something..._ and in any case, DG had expressed a desire to speak with her magic teacher after the events in the Realm of the Unwanted, and her reading with Cynthia. This much, he could do.

"A walk?" Tutor asked, clearly confused; he'd been waiting for Cain to elaborate more on his need to see Ambrose, and the subject change had thrown him.

"Just come on," Cain told him, already turning to the doorway, the first of many steps that would lead him out of the palace and back to DG. "I got someone that'd like to talk to you."

* * *

_Author's Note II: Hopefully, the story is propelling foward nicely, and isn't any more plot-hole-ridden than the miniseries. We're about half done, maybe a little more or maybe a little less. We all know Tutor means exposition, he's Dumbledore in disguise. Not as good as Glitch is, though... reviews are love, my muse misses you guys. :D _


	20. Chapter Twenty

_Author's Note: Yeah, I don't believe it either. So fast! Just enjoy!_

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**Chapter Twenty**

Tutor insisted on accompanying Cain off of the palace grounds as Toto, which suited Cain just fine. By the time they made it to the street, Cain could almost forget that the mutt was following him. It was a quick-paced, silent walk back to the Hass' apartment. The farther from the center of the city they got, the quieter things became. The busy side-walks thinned into empty stretches that only he and Toto travelled. The pad of the dog's paws were oddly familiar, reminding Cain of a time long past and best forgotten.

There was comfort, however, in navigating the complex, multi-levelled urban mess that was Central City. Once, a few months back, during one of their few and far between stolen moments, DG was tucked flush against him as they hid in a shadowed alcove. She was teasing him about the maze in Finaqua, and its intricate, twisted passages. _"I could lose you in there," _she'd boasted, grinning up at him mischievously. _"I'd have to come in and rescue you." _She'd giggled then, and he'd sealed his mouth over hers to hush her.

As he turned a sharp corner, and ducked through an alley that would cut a few minutes off his travels, Cain smirked with the sure fact that there were places in this city he could take her, and she'd spend days exploring the tangled network of the city's interconnected levels, looking for the way out.

He pushed his thoughts away as he mounted the stone steps that led to the outer courtyard of the Hass' building, the click and scrape of the dog skittering up behind him causing a twitch in the corner of his mouth. Before entering, however, Cain knelt down low, as if to pet the dog who came to a complete stop before him, looking up at him with curious, beady black eyes.

"We managed to pick up some extra company on the road," Cain told Toto, feeling a little awkward at having a conversation with a dog. "Mind your manners and watch what you say," he said warningly, pointing a large finger squarely at Toto's nose.

Cain hoped the short, gruff bark that came out of the tiny dog was an affirmative.

Inside, the stairwells were empty, and the halls the same, so that Toto's panting and soft growls echoed. At the proper door, Cain stopped, and the mutt came to a halt a few feet away, promptly plopping his back end onto the floor and watching the Tin Man patiently.

The door was opened quickly after he'd knocked quietly, so as not to alert the neighbours to male company appearing on the doorstep of Mrs. Cordelia Hass while her husband was away. Cain slipped inside, unseen by anyone and glad for it, with Toto hot on his heels and safe inside before the door was closed.

"Captain?" Hass asked expectantly, as he finished bolting the door and turned around, nearly tripping over Toto in the process. Cain shook his head slowly, taking a moment to look pointedly at the dog before returning his gaze to the corporal; Hass nodded his understanding and said nothing more.

Cain was taking his hat off his head, opening his mouth to inform the corporal of the changes that were going to be taking place with the addition of the Jowan to their party and the absence of Ambrose – he would need a few minutes to figure out what they were going to do with the kid – when he heard a curious sound that made his ears perk; _laughter_. It was a sound he hadn't heard in so long, the full-bellied laugh of women. What was more, he knew one of the snickers coming from the other room belonged to DG, and he wondered what had turned her mood so fast since he'd left her. Turning his head toward the kitchen, he took a step forward, and then another. As his feet carried him, he slowly rounded the corner through the doorway, to take in the sight of his princess.

Her cheeks were pink and she was smiling so much, he mused she might be in a bit of pain. She was giggling with a hand over her eyes, the laughter shaking her body and the chair underneath of her. Across the table, Cordelia was laughing herself, just as uncontrollably, so it was hard for Cain to tell who had broken down and smiled first. Cor turned her head, trying to shake off her giggles, when she spied the men hovering in the doorway.

"They've been carrying on like they're on Vapours for about twenty minutes now," Hass said dismissively, as he brushed past Cain to enter the kitchen.

At the sound of Hass's voice, DG's hand whipped away from her face, her eyes widening at the sight of Cain. "Wyatt!" she exclaimed, as she jumped up out of her chair and crossed the room. She balked just shy of embracing him, jerking her body back a step, but tentatively reached out to touch his sleeve. "Did you –" But whatever she was about to say was cut short; one look into his steely blue eyes told her the kitchen wasn't the place to be discussing anything.

Before Cain could speak, Tory appeared in the doorway, the mutt in his arms. Aggravated, Cain rolled his eyes, even as DG's grin widened as she laid her eyes on Toto.

"Anybody else notice Cain brought a dog back?" Tory asked, holding Toto under an arm like a football.

She looked up at Cain, she trying her very best to look displeased. "Didn't we have a talk about picking up strays, Cain?"

Cain frowned; he leaned in close to DG, placing his lips next to her ear, close enough to brush her flesh. "We picked the wrong day to come to Central, Darlin'," he said, his words low, breathy and fast. "Both Glitch and your sister have gone to the Tower tonight... but we'll talk about it later. Right now, take the mutt into the study; see what you can get outta him," he told her. He let his lips linger against her temple for a moment, until she shivered, and then he pulled away. She nodded up at him, a quivering look in her pale blue eyes that spoke of her return to the current darkness after her brief escape to giddiness. A determined, serious look settled over her features, and _there_ was his princess, all business and ready for a fight.

The sight of her straightening her spine coaxed a rare smile out of him, and he nudged her away towards the kid.

Toto hopped down out of Tory's arms, and Cain put a hand over his eyes as the little terrier shifted back to his human form, straightening his jacket as he reached full height. Tory's eyes widened to an almost painful size, as he stumbled back toward the cluttered counter-top.

"_Jesus!_" he near-shrieked, and Cain's head jerked up at the strange, Other Side term DG had moaned while pressed underneath of him on more than one occasion. Shaking his head with an exasperated sigh, and brushing off his failure to save the kid the scare, he returned his hand to cover the tense expression on his face.

Tutor, in good form, introduced himself properly to Tory, who had clambered up to sit up on the counter, knocking a basket of fruit to the floor. "Willian Lesley," he said, holding out his big hand to the kid, "but its been a long time since anyone knew me as anything but 'Tutor'." After a moment of hesitation, Tory hopped back down off the counter, and shook Tutor's hand.

"Tory Jackson," he said quietly, before snatching his hand back. He bent down to pick up the scattered fruit, and replaced the basket when he was finished.

A long, uncomfortable stretch of silence followed, as the six occupants of the room looked around at one another. Cain's only priority was giving DG and Tutor; the rest didn't concern him much. Thankfully, it was DG who finally broke the spell, asking Tutor to speak with her privately in the back study, a tiny room that rivalled a broom closet near the rear of the apartment.

Cain watched DG walk out of the room without so much as a look back, though Tutor glanced nervously over his shoulder at Cain as he exited. He felt his annoyance spike when the kid spoke, asking "Can everyone here do that?"

Cordelia saved him the pain of answering. "No, its a very rare gift, actually," she said quietly, standing and clearing the dishes from the table. She gave Tory a smile as she walked past him to the sink.

"I think I need to go to bed," Tory muttered, looking longingly into the sitting room, where a blanket and pillow waited for him on the worn-out sofa.

Cain had to admit, he agreed with the kid.

* * *

***

* * *

"How is my sister?" DG asked her teacher the moment she'd closed the door behind her, sealing them both into the tiny room. As an extra precaution, she threw up a spell to hide the sound of their voices. With both Cordelia and Tory in the small apartment, it wasn't safe to speak as freely as she wanted to.

"Azkadellia is holding up well," Tutor said, and DG's heart sparked with hope for her sister before she realized that Tutor wouldn't know about the ordeals that Azkadellia had endured _beyond_ the Coronation, and the anniversary of the Eclipse. Of course, Azkadellia would be holding her head high, suffering with grace and dignity. DG couldn't count the amount of times she'd seen her sister go into auto-pilot. With a frown, DG leaned up against the door.

A few feet from her, Tutor settled into a desk chair; he pulled a cord on the desk lamp to bathe them both in dusty, orange light. "What is this all about, DG? Why are you in Central City? I was under the impression that you and Cain had left the city almost a week ago."

DG looked down at her feet. "We did. We ran into Tory on our way South, so he's been with us since..." She raised her eyes to the ceiling as she tried to remember which day it had been that the kid had dropped out of a tree in front of them. _ If today is Saturday,_ she muttered to herself in her mind, "...I think it was Wednesday afternoon," she concluded. "He says he's from my world. No, I mean, the Other Side." She rolled her eyes at her own indiscretion. Why could little things like that still cause a full on stumble in her brain, a glitch after all this time in the O.Z.? "We told him we'd help him," she tacked on lamely.

Tutor's lips turned down into a skeptical line.

"Okay, maybe _I_ told him we'd help him," she admitted a little offhandedly, as she barrelled through her words. "As it turns out, we had to come to Central City anyway." She cut herself off vaguely, and though her teacher raised an eyebrow at her, he said nothing at her secret-keeping. "Ambrose can help him cross over, can't he?"

"You could have done it yourself, DG," Tutor reminded her sagely.

DG's shoulders fell. "No, I can't summon something as big as a Travel Storm," she said, shaking her head. She didn't say that she also doubted she'd be able to _control_ the damn thing. Why hadn't she thought about sending him back herself?

_Because you haven't learned yet, Deeg,_ her brain replied.

Tutor looked as if he didn't believe her, but once again, he let it slide, and she assumed it was because they weren't in a lesson and she wasn't his pupil just then. "What did you learn in the South?" Tutor asked, prompting her. He looked reluctant, to say the least, and it made her frown as she spoke. She wasn't surprised; the man had bad luck when it came to getting involved in the adventures.

"That my Light has the strength to destroy the power of the Emerald," she said, almost smiling as her mouth formed the words.

Tutor smiled at her, a full toothed grin that overtook his eyes. "And you're worried you can't awaken a Travel Storm," he said, chuckling to himself and shaking his head at the thought. "How did you manage to come by this self-realization?" he asked, not unkindly.

"It wasn't a self-realization," she said. Though the words felt a little funny on her tongue, she said them anyway. "I was told this when I went for a Reading."

Tutor's watery eyes went wide at her last word. "You did _what_?" he asked, as if unsure if he'd heard her right. His tone was shocked and disappointed and accusing all at once, and it made her feel guilty in a way that only her Popsicle had ever been able to draw out of her.

"Can we just focus on the end justifying the means and move on?" she suggested, trying to shut up the part of her brain that wanted to justify her means right then. _Anything to get rid of this burden! _her mind screamed; _What would you have done? _her brain wanted to demand of him.

"I'm sorry, Princess," Tutor said, and her demons backed down at the slap of the title to the end of his sentence.

"I'm sorry, too," she apologized, and Tutor gave her a smile, and a tiny nod. "_But_," she continued slowly, now wanting this over with as soon as possible. "Cynthia gave me a request in return for her answers. Do you know anything about a book called _'The Record'_?"

Her teacher's brow furrowed. "_The Record_?" DG nodded, watching him intently now, at attention as she'd never been at his lessons. He sighed. "It was a magic book."

"A spell book?"

Tutor shook his head. "No, you misunderstand me," he said, with a familiar condescending tone in his voice. "It wasn't a book _of_ magic. The book itself _was_ magic."

Her frown deepened. "What was so magic about it?"

Her teacher took his time with his words, gathering them slowly and speaking them with patient precision. "_The Record_ was, quite simply, a picture book. It belonged to the daughter of King Pastor, the predecessor of Dorothy Gale." DG bit her tongue, impatient with his history lesson into her ancestry that was so very unnecessary. Tutor's deep, dull voice went on, "The book itself disappeared, along with the princess, ten annuals or so before the arrival of Dorothy and the Emerald."

"I don't understand why a picture book would be so important," she said, tired and low on imagination. An image of the Other Side equivalent kept swimming into her mind, bright images of apples and bears, and she had sudden insight on why she'd hated learning to read as a child in Kansas.

"Well, what accounts that still exist state that it was quite extraordinary," Tutor said. "If one was to open the book to any page, you could ask the book to see anything: a location, perhaps, or another person who is far away. Within the Zone, though, I believe... the magic itself does have its limitations."

DG's mouth fell open, and she stared for a moment before putting her face in her hands, bowing her head. _No wonder Cynthia wants it..., _she thought. _And I've got to take this from the Longcoat camp?_

And then... "Damn it!" she swore, and Tutor's eyebrows shot up. "You can see _anything_? People and places, anything you want?"

Tutor shook his head. "Yes, and no, DG," he told her with great patience, something he didn't always display when she started asking her questions. "It will show you what you ask for, yes, but you need to _ask_ for it. You have to ask, with great specification, who or what you want to see."

_This is just freaking fantastic, _she thought. "Well, the Longcoats have it," she said, and watching as Tutor's face fell. "So they could be keeping an eye on everything we're doing, couldn't they?"

"Not if they aren't asking the book about you. Secrecy is still your greatest ally, DG," he said, his voice lowering a little, even though they were safe, still perfectly safe. "Your absence in the palace and about the city hasn't been noticed yet, and when it is, your sister will announce that you and Mr. Cain have gone to Finaqua. It was very foolish to come to Central City, if you're trying to avoid notice."

DG shook her head, a brief and hesitant gesture. They would have come anyway, boy, book, or not. But Tutor was right. As long as they stayed hidden, and moved quietly without being noticed, they could run without being pursued, or even detected... although she knew from past experience that you couldn't stay unnoticed forever. And as it was, they were already being watched... _dark eyes_, the girl in the mirror.

"Tutor, wait," she said, as he made to stand. Her silence had misled him into thinking the conversation over. She held up a hand, and tried to offer an apologetic smile before she launched headlong into another barrage. "She spoke. Again."

Tutor looked at her as if she might have lost her mind. "Who spoke?"

"The reflection," she said quickly, "the girl in the mirror... _her_. She spoke to me, just this evening, like she's been paying attention to everything we're doing."

"Have you thought about avoiding mirrors?" Tutor asked.

DG crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "Is that all the advice you have?"

Her teacher laughed. "I'm serious, DG. Whether its the lights you see, or the 'girl' you see, I hope you're not being naive enough to assume that either are friendly," he admonished. "Mirrors can be used as windows by those that know how; its magic that you, yourself, could do with the proper training."

Despite herself, she latched onto that. "Could you teach me?"

"If we had about two or three weeks," he told her, "and it would be a lot of exploding glass and accidental peeps into the bathrooms of the Zone."

She laughed, a light giggle that didn't quite feel real. "I have to find out who she is, though," DG said. "And what better way than to ask her, if she wants to talk to me?"

Tutor frowned. "Why do you ask for advice when you don't want to listen?" he asked, sounding hesitant to know the answer.

"It helps my thinking process. Thank you for answering my questions, Toto," she said, and she smiled. A moment later, they left the study to find the apartment darkened. The only light came from the kitchen, where Hass and his wife sat at the table, talking in whispers. On the table top, his hand was over hers, but at the sight of DG and Tutor, he jumped to his feet.

"I'll go wake the captain," Hass said, moving away from the table toward the hallway.

DG shook her head. "What? No!" she said. "There's no reason to wake Cain. One of us can see Toto out."

Hass cleared his throat. "No, that's not it. He wanted to speak with... um, your tutor," he said, and DG frowned, knowing that was not the way Cain had referred to Toto. "About the kid, since Master Ambrose is out of the city."

"Oh," DG said softly. "Well... we don't need to wake him for that." She tried out her best commanding voice. "Azkadellia or one of the royal alchemists needs to awaken a Travel Storm and send Tory home." It would be a few days still, she knew, before the kid would crossing over, and that meant... "If we leave tomorrow at dawn, he can't come with us," she said, finishing her thought aloud. She didn't know what to do with the kid until Az and Glitch were ready for him.

Cordelia spoke up. "He can stay with me until the Queen returns to the city," she said. "Capt. Cain said it would be by tomorrow, didn't he?" She looked to her husband for confirmation, and he nodded. She shrugged her shoulders then, as if it were settled.

DG smiled appreciatively. It was then agreed quickly that Tutor would return for Tory in the morning and take him to the palace, once the Queen and her advisor had been informed of the situation. She felt odd, deciding these things without consulting Cain or Tory, but time was short, and she knew Cain hadn't had a proper sleep since leaving Milltown. Cain would forgive her, she knew, even if she had to pull out a few feminine wiles... and of course, Tory wouldn't care, because it meant he was going _home_.

After Tutor had gone, and DG was finally able to think about getting to the bed for a few hours of sleep, Hass shook his head at her, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "The captain's going to be mad no one listened to him."

"Just tell him I ordered you not to," she said with a shrug and a smile, "and let me deal with Wyatt Cain."

* * *

***

* * *

Construction of the Tower had begun less than an annual after the Sorceress had dethroned the Queen of the O.Z, and the plans for the machine concealed from within had been redesigned to suit a more nefarious purpose. Completed just two annuals later, it was a relatively new structure to a landscape that could remember time out of mind.

The dunes surrounding the Tower were bleak and pale, harsh and unforgiving terrain. From the ground, the ugliness stretched on as far as the eye could see in any direction, and though it was complete darkness, Azkadellia knew by heart where the barrenness bled into the fertile land beyond the devastation of the Tower. Soon, life would begin to come back to the land that surrounded the Tower, bleached and destroyed by the evil presence that had resided high above for so long. Without the taint of the Witch, the land would rejuvenate.

One day... Az hoped she would live to see it.

It was the lights of Central City that Azkadellia watched, a sparkling beacon in the distance. Thoughts of her sister were invading her head, had been doing so all day... DG, DG... worry and guilt and envy and anxiety, all wrapped into a tight ball of emotion that was lodged into her chest. Thoughts of her tangle-haired, blue-eyed sister pushed away all thoughts of Jeb, chased away the pain of her loss... and for that, Az was almost _thankful_ for the distraction, even if thoughts of DG were equally as dark.

Important things were taking place, she could... _feel_ it.

"Your Majesty," Ambrose called out. Azkadellia took a deep breath before turning around.

"Is Andrus finally ready?"

Ambrose nodded. "He'll be on his way shortly."

She let out a shaky breath. "Good. I want to leave here as soon as I am finished meeting with Andrus. I don't like being here."

Glitch snorted a laugh. "I warned you."

Azkadellia whirled on the advisor, to see him wide eyed and pale, his hand clasped over his mouth. She understood in an instant that he had not meant to say what he'd said. He often blurted his thoughts out around her, but never had it been something so incidental... like they were _friends_.

"You're right," she agreed, giving him a weak, forgiving smile. "You did warn me."

She looked around, drawing deep on the dark, carved walls, and the cold marble floor. She was surrounded by heavy fabrics and dismal colours, tooled with bright metals. Even the lingering scent on the air, something familiar and never, ever forgotten, was getting to her.

She hadn't thought it would be this hard. She'd been to the Tower before this, though never alone. DG had accompanied her, and... and so had Jeb. She shuddered at the memory of his unerring support at her back; she hadn't deserved the kindness he showed her, after their initial rough start. The fresh start, not as the Sorceress who had ordered the imprisonment of his Resister father, but as a princess who'd needed his help deep underground, the damsel in distress from the stories that she'd read to DG when they were little, before... before the possession.

"Are you all right, Majesty?" Ambrose asked her carefully.

"No," Az said with a shake of her head. "No, I don't think I am."

The doors of the massive study were thrown open then, and General Andrus entered, straightening his uniform as he walked. Stopping in front of her, he bowed curtly. "Your Majesty," he said. "You wished to see me."

Azkadellia cleared her throat, trying to gather some of her mother's poise and grace. "Yes, General," she said. "I wanted to hear with my own ears of the progress in the South before you return there."

"Ah," said Andrus; the expression on his aged face told her he'd been expecting as much. "Well, as it so happens, I've received news just this evening, out of Byvasser. It appears that our spies were seen leaving the village at dawn. They travelled a supply-trail, and our scouts near the borders had visual confirmation of them entering the forest from the north in the company of an enemy escort."

Azkadellia swallowed hard, and tried to keep her face impassive. She did not realize that Ambrose watched her very carefully, as she took a moment to speak past the block in her throat. "Lt. Cain has gone under the cover of darkness, then."

"Yes," Andrus said with a satisfied nod. "The lad did well, and with good luck, will be out of the forest within the week."

Az frowned, and turned away from the general, away from the advisor. _With good luck_, Andrus had said. It wouldn't be that easy. If he continued to go undetected, Jeb could be gone for weeks, gathering information on the Longcoats while hidden amongst their ranks.

"Your previous reports spoke of the cave networks in the south being used for passage in secrecy."

"It appears, Your Majesty," Andrus said, "that the enemy is doing less to cover their movements."

She took a deep breath, one that filled and stretched her lungs; when she released it, it was as a shaky sigh. "They're becoming more confident."

"It would seem that way, yes, Majesty." She could almost imagine him nodding regretfully.

"You will increase your numbers, General," she told him, summoning her most forceful voice, the deep tone that reminded her of... herself. Before. "As a precaution, of course. No other move is to be made."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Borrowing some of the optimism her sister was known for, Az plastered a fake smile on her face and turned back to the general. As her eyes skipped over to Ambrose, she noticed then that he watched her with a peculiar expression upon his face, a look of both concentration and daydream.

"That will be all, General," Az said, dismissing Andrus with a small wave of her hand. Andrus cast a long, surveying glance her way before nodding, bowing, and leaving the room. The door closed behind him, heavy and loud, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the thundering echo of what it sounded like when those doors were slammed closed with the force of magic... annuals ago, a past that did and didn't belong to her.

There was a long moment of silence, in which Azkadellia returned to the balcony and the night air, to stare out into the darkness, and the towering mound of lights in the distance that was Central City. When Ambrose made no intention of moving or speaking, she sighed.

"Was there news from DG this evening, Ambrose?"

She imagined him shaking his head as he spoke to her back. "No, none," he said.

Azkadellia put a gloved hand to her forehead, the cool, smooth satin like a kiss of relief to her hot skin. If only she knew where her sister was, she could try to reach her with magic... she worried so much about her sister daily, she didn't think establishing the connection would be a problem, no matter what the distance. But without knowing, even vaguely, her sister's location, it would be impossible...

"We make ready to leave," she said, turning around to face Glitch so suddenly that he jumped back a foot in surprise. "I want to return to the city and sleep in my own bed tonight."

After Ambrose had gone, and she was alone – though there were still two of her personal security detail standing guard outside the door – she felt herself relax a little, and she sank down onto a hard, leather chaise. She flopped back into an awkwardly comfortable sitting position, the best that her tight dress would allow her. Once off her feet, Azkadellia leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

_She was trapped. Always trapped. She could not move, and she could not speak. She could only think, and what good did thinking do, as no one could hear her thoughts, but for the one that invaded her body, that controlled the slender hands and smooth legs that had once been her own. _

_Annuals, night and day, the same darkness. _

_They stood at her back, Lonot and Vy-sor, both watching her expectantly._

"_A new leader?" she heard herself ask, an echo in the empty space in which she was tucked away, out of sight but not out of mind, never out of mind. The cold voice that pushed past beautifully plump red lips wasn't her own, she could never speak that deeply, with such malice... but it _was_ her voice, her own lust-filled mouth forming the words._

_She felt herself put her hands on her hips, expectantly, glaring at the general as he spoke nervously._

"_He is no more than a boy, Sorceress; he is of very little matter," Lonot reassured her._

"_A child leads them? Its a sure sign the resistance against you is failing," Vy-sor interjected, with a derisive chuckle._

_Her lips turned downwards in a frown – it was so very bad for these men when she frowned. She could hear the thoughts of the Witch that clung to her very soul... _This new leader of the Resistance poses no threat, _she heard evil old hag mutter. After a moment, she began to speak in a harsh tone. "The boy and his resistance should not concern you, General," she spat. "What should concern you is that the Eclipse is merely months away, and you've not yet found me my Emerald."_

"_Forgive me, Sorceress," Lonot's voice sounded out –_

"Your Majesty?"

Azkadellia's eyes fluttered open, and she sat up straight with a sharp intake of breath. Ambrose was crouching down beside her on one knee, a hand hovering over her shoulder as if he'd meant to reach out and shake her. When he saw her staring at his hand, he withdrew it, and placed it upon his knee. His dark eyes were unreadable, though his skin was paler than normal.

"You were dreaming," he told her, as if he needed to.

She nodded as she twisted her body on the chaise to place her feet on the floor. "Just old memories."

* * *

_Author's Note II: If there are any Oz book fans, they might have noticed I compiled two different Ozian treasures into one. I _**had**_ to, to save my plot. I think I'm working my way out of this plot-hole... only time will tell. _**FLUFF **_warning for the next chapter... to keep you hanging. Also, finally going to meet the _**Big Bad**_ soon... I know you're all eager to meet The Lady._


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Chapter Twenty One**

When Cain awoke, it was mostly because DG had begun to squirm and fret in her sleep. That it was still completely dark didn't surprise him, but the position he found himself in was. DG had nestled herself into his arms at some point during the night, and he hadn't awoken to her crawling into the bed. That she'd been able to be that quiet was one thing, but he didn't worry about it... what he did focus on was the fact that no one had roused him earlier.

Trying to sit up, he found his left arm pinned beneath her. _Just great_, he thought, as he lay back down. DG was starting to thrash a bit, and if he timed it right, he could free his arm the next time she turned over. Mumbled words were tumbling past her lips, running together into a low, incoherent moan.

His eyebrows knit together, as he lifted his head to watch her. His eyes had adjusted somewhat, and he could make out the pale, round outline of her face. Her head was tucked up into the hollow of his shoulder, and if the light were better, he would have had a completely unobstructed view of her.

She rolled then, and he was so caught up in trying to pick a word out of what she was saying that he missed his opportunity to extract his arm. On her back now, her head lolled to the side, exposing the creamy flesh of her neck to his eyes. _"... Lets run,_" she muttered, as a hand fluttered up to rest near her face on their shared pillow.

His scarred eyebrow quirked upward as he caught her breathy sigh. _Run? Run from what?_

Inching his arm out from under her enough to prop up on his elbow, he leaned up to better see the window, and tried to judge the light, but there was no sign of even the grayest haze permeating the darkness beyond the glass. It would be a while yet before they'd have to leave, even longer until the suns rose. Listening, Cain heard absolutely no sound at all coming from within the apartment, only the sounds from the street far below the window, the hum and buzz of the city night that accompanied every second of stillness. No, it was either _very _late, or _very_ early, or perhaps even that hazy space between.

"... _City, at last... last,_" DG mumbled beneath him. Looking down at her, he saw that she hadn't moved, hadn't tossed or turned as the ominous words escaped her mouth; lips he knew waited for his own, soft and supple, in the darkness through which he couldn't see.

Almost in response to the thought, he brought his hand up and cupped her face, his fingers brushing against her own hand that was resting on the pillow beside her head. "Deeg," he whispered, sweeping his calloused thumb across the smooth curve of her cheekbone. At the sound of his voice, she turned away from him, pushing her bottom up against his groin in her attempt to get comfortable. Cain grit his teeth, retracting his hand from her, before she pinned it between her chin and the pillow. "Wake up," he instructed quietly, leaning his head down to place his lips near her ear. His words, however, didn't break through the veil of slumber, and she slept on.

"_Poppies..._"

Cain wrapped an arm around DG's waist, holding her against him when she tried to turn over again. She whimpered to find herself trapped, but still didn't awaken. Resting his forehead against her hair, letting it tickle his skin, he took a deep breath. "Darlin', wake up," he said again, giving her a squeeze. No response, but for another push up against him as she tried to twist free. Momentarily, he sagged against her, resisting urges far more base than he'd like to admit, as he remembered the morning in Milltown, not too long before, when he'd expressed a desire to take her every morning... _Not here,_ he reminded himself, _not in a borrowed bed._

True to her teasing nature, DG seemed to sense the impropriety of the Tin Man's thoughts. She woke then, with a sharp intake of breath. Stretching into the hand he held splayed over her stomach, she arched her back, pressing her bottom firmly into his groin as she gave a kitten-like mewl.

"Wyatt?" she asked, her sleep-weakened voice hinting at confusion. "What time is it?"

"Not time to get up just yet," he mumbled into her hair. "You were talkin' in your sleep."

"Was I?" she mused lazily. "I was dreaming of a poppy field," she said, settling back into him with another wiggle that threatened his restraint. Barely holding onto it by a thread, Cain tightened his hold on her, not intending to let her get up until he had an explanation of why he hadn't been awoken.

"Papay Field?"

"No," she said with a slight shake of her head, and a quiet, scratchy giggle. Her hair rubbed against his stubbled jaw. _"Poppies._ They're a flower on the Other Side. Aren't there poppies here?"

"Possibly, I'm no expert on vegetation," Cain admitted.

"Beautiful, blood-red poppies," she whispered wistfully. "A vast field of them, as far as my eyes could see. But there was something up with them, the dream was a little sketchy on the details." She gave her head another shake. "I can't remember, exactly. But... _something,_" she reiterated. She turned in his arms, and this time he allowed her, settling his hand down on the small of her back, just above the swell of her ass. "I'm having more trouble remembering my dreams than I used to."

Cain frowned, as she tipped her face, to nuzzle the underside of his jaw. "Is it much longer before we have to go?" she asked innocently. He craned his neck, giving the window another good look, though he knew not much would have changed. Sure enough, there'd been no variation to the darkness outside.

"No more than two hours," he guessed, though in all likelihood, it could be longer. He knew, without a doubt, that she would have been the one to decide against waking him. He could imagine, quite clearly, the internal debate she would have had over it. Obviously, the decision to let him sleep had weighed out. He settled back down behind her, closing his eyes. There was nothing for it. "You didn't wake me," he said steadily.

"I didn't think we needed to," she said softly. Immediately, she rushed in to alleviate his concerns. "I made arrangements with Tutor, he'll take Tory to the palace in the morning... or later this morning, anyway." There was a smile in her voice, pleased with herself that she'd handled it. It incensed him, but he bit it back, not wanting to spoil the moment with undue anger.

"What if somethin' goes wrong? You seem more than willin' to take that on your shoulders," he admonished lightly, unable to say _nothing. _What had Glitch once accused him of... bitter cynicism? He didn't like to discourage DG for her consideration; in fact, it touched him that she'd worried about how much he'd rested. However, it didn't change the fact that if something in her plans went horribly awry, the blame would land squarely on her; something she was well-versed in, yes, but not something he wanted to see her bring down upon herself knowingly.

The strange form of survivor's guilt she'd felt on her return to the Zone, after visiting her memories and learning that she'd played a major role in the downfall of the country, had begun to dissipate recently, with her sister's slow recovery from the Possession and the new reconstruction that would return the land to her former glory. Here she was, still trying to fix the family she had unknowingly torn apart as a child, by destroying the one link that still tied the Gales to their past... the Emerald.

Cain imagined that her eyes might have been reproachful, and that her teeth might sink into her bottom lip, as she turned in his arms, so that she could lay her head down on the pillow and face him. "If something goes wrong," she began slowly, "I'd take the fall, of course I would. I know how to do that, after all." She was making a point, and in the darkness, he had the sense to look contrite, even if she couldn't see it.

"You've got more than your fair share to worry about," he reminded her. He put a hand on her bare arm, cupping her shoulder in his big palm. The sleep shirt she wore was sleeveless, a thin strap over either shoulder the only thing holding the scant garment to her body. The soft, stretchy material clung to the soft curves of her; unable to help himself, he let his thumb sweep underneath the strap, the touch on the minimally exposed skin making her shiver just the same.

"And you've got your hands full worrying about _me_ while I worry about 'my fair share'," she said, her voice firming, proving he was less of a distraction than he thought he was. "I just... oh, for Pete's sake," she huffed. "I can't argue with you when I can't see you."

The next instant, the lamp on the bedside table ignited, a tiny blue and yellow flame barely burning at the tip of the wick inside the glass. It cast enough dim light that it didn't shock their eyes, though the flame slowly grew, and brightened, until Cain could clearly see the princess laying next to him. He smirked, never growing tired of her little tricks.

"You should let me worry about you sometimes, Wyatt," she told him quietly, her blue eyes serious. "There's no one to look out for you, can't you let me? I'm sorry if I chose the wrong moment to do it, but... well, equal partnership and all that, right? If you think I'm gonna take a backseat when we get married, you've got another think coming!" She was ruffled now, and she was cuter than she had a right to be, considering the subject matter. The grim honesty in her eyes shifted, sparking in the lamplight.

He chuckled at her sudden fire. "Not sayin' I want you to," he said as he propped up on an elbow. She followed suit, mirroring his position. "But, Darlin'," and here he paused, the words hard to push past his tongue because of their technical formality, "this is more than just a cross-country trip, these are serious security matters, and even somethin' as simple as –"

DG sighed, interrupting him. "I know, I know. The captain's orders are to be followed. I'll remember," she said resignedly, a wise child who'd been chastised once too often. She offered him a winning smile, as she backed down and tried to distract him from a different angle.

"You'd better," he said, hopefully putting an end to the conversation as he frowned at her. Her complete trust of the mutt and the kid were clouding what good judgment she usually had. Though the old teacher had proven himself to the royal family by leading Cain, Glitch, and Raw to DG's location before the Eclipse, and during the events at the Tower, Cain still couldn't trust Tutor any farther than he could throw him. Then, there was the matter of Tory; something was off about that kid, something that unnerved Cain more than it should.

_You should be considering yourself lucky, Wyatt,_ his conscience told him. _You can wash your hands of the entire thing. Never have to worry about it again._

Wyatt Cain, however, knew that things could never be as easy as he was led to believe.

The sudden blackness enveloping them as the lamp extinguished brought him out of his thoughts. DG was snuggling closer to him again, gripping a handful of his shirt as she settled down against him. "Do you want to sleep some more?" she asked with a yawn.

"It'd do no good to get up and wake the others," was all he offered her in return. Sleep was the last thing from his mind, he'd gotten enough, and now his brain was back to working out what lay ahead of them. His mind was on the Old Road, in the Western Mountains, the far reaches near the border where lay their destination.

"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out, tilting her head to kiss the hollow of his throat. Gritting his teeth, Cain shifted against her. When he didn't answer her, DG asked a new question. "Are you still tired?" Her lips moved in a slow, hot trail over his exposed collar bone, her fingers reaching up to hold the material of his shirt out of her way.

Cain's mind gave the tiniest of spins. How much did he want to just lie back and let her explore and play? His pulse thundered in his ears, his blood beginning to rush too fast. Self-control, he'd had some once... "Sweetheart," he said, his voice strained. He brought his hand up to hold her head in place, brushing his thumb over her lips; sweetly, and oh so _carefully,_ she opened her lips and brought his thumb into her mouth, to lightly catch between her teeth. He groaned, as he imagined those lips wrapped around other parts of him, her teeth nipping at him with _just_ the right pressure... Her tongue made a slow pass over the tip of his thumb, driving his imagination into a frenzy, and it was almost his undoing.

He yanked his hand away from her face before crushing his lips over hers, effectively stealing what breath she had in her lungs to stop her from gasping or moaning under his kiss. His tongue slipped into her still open mouth, meeting hers, wet and warm. Her arms went about his neck and she clung to him, meeting him with equaled fervor once she'd regained her senses after his initial assault. When he tore away from her, long, long minutes later, it was to breathe, or die.

"You sure you want to keep this up? You'll be wakin' the whole house if I get my hands on you," he warned her. It wasn't a threat, it was the honest truth of the situation; he missed the tight confines of her body, her muscles squeezing around him as her arms and legs twined over his hips and back like vines. If he touched her now, he'd take her hard and make her scream, such was the great need within him for tension release.

"I could always throw up a spell," DG countered, as she threw her leg over his hip, pulling him closer. With a growl, he shifted his weight to cover her, pressing his leg between hers; he could feel the heat of her despite their clothes, scorching him through his trouser leg.

"All those lessons this past annual, didn't anyone teach you to behave yourself?" he asked, lowering his lips to the slope of her neck simply to avoid the temptation of her mouth.

"Isn't it enough that I behaved _during_ the lessons?" she whispered in his ear, and she gasped as he bit down on her tender flesh. He pressed his knee a little more firmly upwards, creating the pressure and friction between her legs he knew would start a fire low inside her belly. Lifting his head, he kissed her, nipping her bottom lip when she began to writhe, and sucking gently on the offended flesh when she whimpered. "_Cain_," she moaned quietly, vulnerably.

Pulling back slightly, Cain took a deep breath, before he rolled off of her. Instantly, he missed the warm softness of her, and before she could argue or sit up, he pulled her to him and pressed a kiss to her temple. _Not here,_ he told himself. Though he didn't know exactly when they would next find themselves with a private room to themselves, he couldn't let arousal get the better of him... or her.

"Get some more sleep, Deeg," he said, closing his eyes and preparing to make an attempt at the same. "We're both gonna need it."

* * *

***

* * *

By the time Jeb and his partner had pushed the wagon over the winding forest road to the outskirts of the camp, he was ready to admit defeat. Palace life had made him a bit soft; following Azkadellia around all day could hardly have been called grueling hard work. His muscles were about ready to seize up, when the light from several fires drew his attention.

The rutted dirt road on which they'd traveled to bring the wagon thus far met up with the section of Brick Route that they had left behind when they'd arrived at the shield. Jeb surveyed what he could see with the helpful addition of the bonfires. The trees were more dense than they'd been near Shadow's Passage, outside of the aging gatehouse. Jeb had no doubt that they were very, very close to the heart of the forest, where no light at all from the suns would permeate through the canopy above his head. The close grown trees with their tangled branches would certainly block out any rays that the suns might try to throw down upon this forsaken place.

Brown canvas tents had been raised haphazardly around the partial clearing, among more crumbling ruins of ancient origin. Whatever attack had descended upon this civilization, the devastation had been complete. Nothing but fragments of wall, precarious door arches, and stairs that broke off and led to nowhere remained. The brick road that ran through the center of it was in the same state of disrepair that Jeb had followed into the forest.

The two young soldiers hadn't made it very close to the camp before they were facing down the barrel of a rifle, belonging to a perimeter guard.

"State your business, boys," he instructed calmly.

"We've got a load of supplies for Quartermaster Briones," Jeb said slowly, and clearly, not removing his hands from the back of the wagon.

"We didn't hear nothing about new recruits," the guard said skeptically.

Travers cleared his throat. "Neither did the shield-guardians at Shadow's Passage, but they let us through."

"I imagine Briones is getting impatient for these rations," Jeb added.

After a moment that stretched on too long for Jeb's liking, the perimeter guard allowed them past with their cargo, instructing them which area of the camp had been designated for supply store. Of course, with Jeb's favored luck, it was on the southern end of the site, closer into the heart, where the Brick Route continued on into a darker, closer tunnel of trees, farther on into the center of the forest.

The camp quartermaster, Briones, was a tall, battle-hardened man who had no patience for the newest recruits. He put the young men to work immediately, griping direly the entire time about wastes of his precious time. Jeb rolled his eyes as he unloaded the wagon, placing the crates three times before the overseer was satisfied.

"I'm a little surprised Cole let you two live," the quartermaster said, as he leaned against the back of the empty wagon, watching the soldiers with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

Jeb chuckled as if this were an easy thing to talk about, as if he had no regard for his own life. "He told us he'd most likely kill us in the morning."

"Sounds like one of Cole's threats. And you laugh, Boy?" Briones asked, a little impressed as he raised an eyebrow. "You're a damn fool."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Jeb let the comment roll off him. "Might be," he admitted, though he knew Briones would scoff at his assuredness. "Maybe it isn't Cole's decision to make whether me and my buddy live or die."

Briones gave a hearty guffaw, a strange sound to hear out of any Longcoat or supporter... they just weren't given to laughter, though they were human, violent faction or not. "You're a smart kid," he said jovially, as he took one last pull on his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. Putting it out with the heavy toe of his boot, the look in his eye might almost have been friendly as he watched Jeb. "You'll want to keep your head down with smarts like that. You don't want to go attracting the Lady Catt's attention to you." Jeb stood still and stared Briones down as the older man took a good, long minute to study the newcomer. "You look like a good, clean kid," he said finally, and he turned to Travers, giving him a brief, but thorough, look-over. "The both of ya's. What are you two doin' in this deep?"

Jeb had a feeling the quartermaster was hinting at something far more ominous than just their current physical location. He took a breath, gave a heavy sigh, and then smirked at Briones.

"If I said this all started with a girl, would you believe me?"

Briones snorted. "If you did, then you wouldn't have to explain any further. Trouble, women are. A woman is why we're all here right now, ain't it?"

The two young soldiers nodded in testament.

It was nearing dawn, somewhere above his head, when Jeb was finally granted a few hours reprieve by the quartermaster. He and Travers were each given a ratty sleeping roll, barely more than a canvas sack, and directed to a small corner in the shelter of a broken stone wall on the periphery of the camp.

His body was aching by the time he'd laid down on the hard ground, listening to the quiet sounds of the camp. Most slept, and the only activity about the camp had been himself, and Travers, as they'd done the bidding of the quartermaster, whom, it seemed, did not require sleep. The only sounds in the night came from the soldiers that tended the fires, and the patrolling of the perimeter guards.

Odd, that there was no breeze. Worse, that there were no birds or insects making their natural noises... after all, it was near dawn, the first of the early birds would be chirping their 'good morning' to the suns... somewhere, beyond the overpowering darkness of the forest. In Central City, where Azkadellia still slept, alone... or perhaps where his father and the princess were... wherever that was.

Jeb covered his eyes with his arm, blocking out the dancing light on the rough-hewn stones that towered over his head, crookedly mortared into place. A few hours sleep, no more. He wondered absently if he'd be awoken by a boot to the back of his knee again, or if he'd stir before the person came close. As agitated as he was, the restfulness of sleep seemed to be the farthest thing from possible.

Beside him, Travers had begun to snore. Rolling onto his side to face the stone wall, Jeb grumbled, and wondered how long it would be until he was faced with 'the Lady Catt', the leader of these Longcoats, and, if the assumptions of the generals were right, the source of the powerful magic that protected the forest.

* * *

***

* * *

DG was jarred awake, chased once again from the peace of a poppy field, by a rapid succession of short knocks on the door. The hour to rise had come. Surprised that she'd slept at all, DG disentangled herself from Cain and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. He was up and out of the bed faster than she, however, going to the door and yanking it open hard.

"Its time," said Hass' voice from the hallway, where DG couldn't see.

She was on her feet by the time Cain had closed the door and turned back to her, albeit a little wobbly. Hours before, she'd curled up against Cain in a tank-top and her jeans. Getting ready quickly, she tossed a blouse on and buttoned it with hands still shaky from sleep.

"That might be the fastest I've ever seen you get outta bed," Cain said as he picked up the vest he'd hung over the bedpost and shrugged it on.

"Well, we've got places to be," she said simply, with a shrug of her shoulders.

"The old man will wait until you're good and ready to go," he assured her.

DG shook her head, running his sentence through her brain a second time. "He'll wait? What do you mean?" When she heard Cain smirk, actually _heard_ it, the small snort of breath that escaped him, she sighed, and used her magic to ignite the lamp. Too much magic; it blazed brightly, and her hands flew to cover her eyes as the room went blindingly white.

"Ah, Godsdamn it, Deeg," Cain swore, as his forearm went up to shield his eyes. "I'm gonna be seein' stars."

"Jowan is coming with us West?" she asked bluntly. Cain nodded. She sighed again, heavier and longer, wanting to know why he hadn't told her sooner, but knowing the answer was that he would have, had she woken him up on time like he'd requested. "How about the next time we pick up a stranger, we make it a girl, okay? I've traveled with enough men to last me a lifetime."

Cain frowned. "Just you alone cause enough trouble for me to deal with, Princess. The last time I traveled with two women, I wound up in an enemy prison, five stories underground."

DG laughed, though it wasn't at all funny. _Sorry, Tin Man, but I've got to find something funny, _she thought. She held out her arms, and he crossed the four steps between them to wrap her up in his arms; not the morning greeting she'd wanted, but she'd settle until they could be alone again. Laying her head against his shoulder, she inhaled deeply of him, tightening her arms around his neck.

"How far do you think we'll make it today?" she asked him quietly. There was safety in questions like that, simple things like distance and weather, staying away from the volatile subjects that couldn't be outrightly discussed. These moments just then were _theirs_, and it would be a long while yet before they could stand quietly in relative protection, relax against each other, and just _be_.

"The road past the Tower ain't exactly reliable," he said carefully, "but we should reach Lake Lillay by nightfall."

_Lake Lillay, one of the many Ozian mouthfuls, _DG thought as she tried to recall a map into her head, but every time she did, all she could see was the Black Forest, non-threatening in any way as mere trees and words, drawn on paper. She knew the western border was about three days ride from Central City, and that they'd reach it sometime on Tuesday.

She pulled herself from his embrace, to cross the room to the window. There was frost etched on the glass, spiky fingers of cold that melted when she breathed upon them. Outside, the city night was creeping slowly toward the dawn. She couldn't see the palace from the tiny window, but she imagined her sister and Ambrose had arrived sometime in the cold night, passing through the city gates, their minds a thousand miles apart.

Reflected in the glass, she saw Cain step up behind her, studying the view. "You ready for this?" he asked her.

DG smirked; turning around to face him, she cocked an eyebrow. "Are you?"

A long moment passed, as he searched her eyes with his, and she stood perfectly still, unsure of what his reaction would be. Whether he thought she was teasing him, or challenging him, it didn't seem to matter, for he leaned down and kissed her lips hard, chasing away any and all reason for reaction at all. The kiss went on, as his tongue coaxed at her closed lips, until she parted them, and allowed him into her, glad to have him inside any way she could. The taste of him was making her dizzy, and though she worried about her own morning breath, he didn't seem to be complaining, eager to lap at her, nibble gently on her bottom lip.

"You don't leave my side," he warned her as he pulled away, his voice low and graveled. This was more than possessive protectiveness, it was actual concern in his voice; Wyatt Cain was _worried_ about her. It threw her back in time, to the moments before the siege on the Tower; the emotion shimmering in his eyes coming from deeper than she'd known emotion could exist... she leaned up now to brush her lips against his, to reassure him, but he gripped her hard by the arms and held her away from him, staring her down with steely eyes. "Promise me, Princess. Not for anythin'."

Her eyes wide, she nodded. "I promise," she whispered, knowing he wanted vocal confirmation, though he could read it all in her eyes, he'd always been able to, right from the moment he'd told her with certainty that she'd cut and run at the first sign of trouble. "But Cain, why –"

Cain shook his head. "Never mind that," he told her firmly, releasing the rough hold he had on her arms, relief evident in his posture as his shoulders loosened slightly. He leaned in and placed a distracted kiss on her temple, stopping for an extra moment to take in a deep breath of the air that surrounded her. Feeling safer than she knew she would in the upcoming days, she soaked up what she could of him while she could, as they wordlessly finished dressing and gathered their things.

Apparently, somewhat to DG's amusement, she learned that her promise to stay by Cain's side included a 'stay where I put you' clause. In the darkness of the front entryway, she leaned against a shadowed wall as he checked the chambers of his revolver before tucking it safely away in its holster. "I'll meet you at the West Gate. Hass will shift, and follow you." He had to go retrieve their mounts from their rented stalls – and also meet up with Jowan without DG present, taking onto himself any and all danger. If something was amiss, or the caretaker betrayed them... she shook the thought out of her head forcefully. It did no good to think like that. Wasn't she was supposed to be the optimistic one?

"You're acting like you don't trust him," she said, as she watched him conceal his holster beneath his duster.

Cain snorted impatiently, but his words were less so, were slow and careful. "Nothin' against being cautious," he said, "I spent enough annuals walkin' this city to know better." His years – no, annuals – as a Tin Man had tuned his senses, shaped his instincts. But he was human, just as she was, magic or not, and prone to making the same mistakes as anyone else.

Once he'd left her alone in the darkened doorway, it wasn't long before she was bundling herself, hat and coat and gloves. Somewhere between the Realm of the Unwanted and Central City, she'd lost her scarf. Muttering curses to herself, DG went into the kitchen, where Jeremy and Cordelia Hass stood, hovering close to each other, saying goodbye.

"You keep an eye out for blue smoke on that horizon, you hear me?" she said, as she buttoned the front of his coat.

Hass was smiling, as he caught sight of DG standing nearby. "A sharp eye, you can be sure of that," he reassured her, reaching up to still her hands and their fretting over his coat. "Remember to keep the door bolted at night."

Cor rolled her eyes at him. "You're the one that forgets, not me, Corporal," she chastened lightly. If there were tears in her eyes, DG couldn't see from across the room, but the woman's voice was sure and steady. "And don't worry about the boy. He'll make it to the palace, surely enough."

DG spoke up then. "Its not getting him to the palace that's the problem," she said, "but getting him back home."

Cordelia gave a smile. "Well, that is out of my hands," she said, and DG nodded in agreement, looking away as the couple kissed quietly. She thought about going to wake the kid, to say goodbye to him, but she knew it would be a bad idea. Thankfully, Hass was announcing it time to leave the next moment, cutting off her thoughts.

After a quick hug shared with Cordelia, they were gone, leaving the apartment behind in silence, though the click and slide of the locks at their backs as the doors closed put a sense of finality on this first step out into the night DG took. The night air took her breath away as they left the building, as a gust of wind hit her in the face. Chilled and shivering by the time they reached the street, it was a _long_ walk to the West Gate.

They were in view of the gate when Hass put his hand on her arm. "Wait," he said. "The captain's orders are for me to follow from above. You stay here until you can see him."

DG nodded, and looked away as he shifted, his form shrinking and sprouting feathers. Pushing off from the ground, the falcon took to the sky above her, his wings beating as he rose steadily higher, until he perched three stories above her on a balcony ledge, still as a statue.

She turned up her collar as she watched the road that led out of the city, until the figures of two men on horseback came into view through the hazy light the blazing beacons on either side of the gate cast out into the grounds beyond. Hefting her pack onto her other shoulder, and tossing upwards one last glance at the falcon, DG put her head down, hoping to hell the guards didn't decide to stop her out of sheer boredom. Young women fled the city in the earliest hours of the morning all the time, didn't they?

Her luck held out and she was grinning as she approached the two men, recognizing Cain's silhouetted form and making straight for him. The sight of the old gardener, astride a healthy mount and wearing a tattered black coat was a little much for her brain to process, and she tried not to outright stare.

"Your Highness," Jowan said with a smile, and a bow of his head, as she pulled herself up behind Cain. Settling her arms around him, she glared at the gardener. "Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?"

"Its all right, though the early hour leaves something to be desired," she said impatiently, not at all wanting to be Princess Dorothy Gale for the next week. "Why are you helping us?" she demanded, an immediate hiss of warning escaping from Cain's lips in front of her.

Jowan smirked. "The woods of the West are a dangerous place, my _Lady_, and no less perilous than those to the Southeast," he said easily. Not for the first time, she wondered just how well-informed this old man was. "No knowing what unwelcome company you might find yourself meeting between here and the Western border. Simply put,I'm helping you because you're sure as hell gonna need it."

DG swallowed hard. She didn't like that answer... no, she didn't like that answer at all.

* * *

_Author's Note II: Hopefully, everyone reading has made it through exams, or finals, or whatever spring madness has taken over our lives! Thanks to erinm_4600, who helped me with "Lake Lillay", and to KLCtheBookWorm, who continues to rock. Also: My muse is holding Cain's libido hostage, he's going to be a stick in the mud until she's satisfied... hmm..._


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Chapter Twenty Two**

As Wyatt Cain left the safe confines of the Hass apartment, he had second thoughts about most everything he was doing. He was rethinking his decision to let DG's plans for Tory to go through; he was rethinking his decision to follow the old man into the west. He was even rethinking his choice to roll over in the bed instead of having DG as she'd offered herself to him.

Pressed for time, he knew there were things that needed to be done, and done fast. He wanted to find a post-master's office; most in this district never closed their doors, and surely enough, he was rewarded when he found a telegraph office with lights blazing bright in the windows. Opening the door, a tiny bell jingling sweetly above his head, he found a wizened old man snoozing in a screened-in booth. The office was no more than a stuffy closet, all transactions taking place through the wire mesh that the post-master now slept behind, sitting up in his chair with legs propped up on the desk.

Cain cleared his throat, and the post-master jumped.

"Oh, excuse me, sir!" he exclaimed, hastily trying to gather himself. A pair of thick spectacles hung from a chain around his neck, and he placed them on his nose. "What can I do for you?"

"Paper, and an envelope," Cain said brusquely; silently, he took the items he was offered, giving the man behind the screen a few coins in return. On the small ledge beneath the wire mesh, Cain took the pen chained to the counter and scribbled a quick note.

The post-master leaned forward curiously, though the ledge on which Cain wrote was concealed from his sight, for privacy's sake. "Do I recognise you from somewheres?" the post-master queried, tipping his head to one side as he squinted at Cain through his eyeglasses.

Cain shook his head minutely; he didn't look up as he folded the small piece of paper and shoved it into the envelope. He placed it on the counter, where the old man's liver-spotted hand reached through the small hole in the mesh screen. "Seal it," Cain said gruffly, as the post-master looked curiously at the un-addressed envelope. Though he shot Cain a skeptical look, the post-master did as he was instructed, and Cain slid two more coppery coins across the desk as additional payment. Tucking the envelope into the inside pocket of his duster, Cain exited the shop with a tip of his hat.

The street outside was still dark and empty. Growling to himself, he knew he had to make it out of the city and soon, and there was no time to deliver the message to the palace himself. He scanned the streets as he walked toward the South gate, in the direction of the stable where he'd put up his horse for the night. Hass would be following by sky, and his mount would be staying at the rented stable.

The streets between him and the gate, however, seemed destined to remain empty... that is, until Cain heard a grunt and a curse from up an alley. Backtracking a few steps, he saw a little girl, no more than ten annuals old. She was struggling with a bundle of newspapers wrapped in twine, trying to haul them off the back of a delivery truck and cursing up a storm every laboured step of the way. Smiling to himself, as the wisp of a girl heaved up the load of papers with another groan of effort, he walked over.

"Hey, kid," he called out, and the girl froze, staring at him with suspicious eyes.

"Who're you?" she asked.

Cain came to a rest near her, bending down slightly to be able to lower his voice over the drone of the waking city around them. Ignoring her question, he offered her a small smile instead. "How much are they payin' ya?" he asked, nodding to the idling truck.

"A quarter-plat if I get the whole truck done," she said, gesturing to the truck, "and stand on the corner all day shouting until I can't talk no more."

Cain frowned, eyeing the streaks of grime on her face. "How'd you like to do a job for me, then? I can promise to pay better."

The girl's eyes widened, but she recovered quickly; already hard and shrewd from living by the city's rules, the child had grit and gumption to spare, that much was clear. Cain wondered absently where her parents were, or if they were the one's driving the delivery truck and putting her to work.

"How much better?" she finally asked him with narrowed eyes.

Cain suppressed an urge to roll his own eyes. From the bill-fold in his pocket, he extracted a whole platinum note, and held it up enticingly before the girl. When she reached for it, however, he pulled it back from her snatching fingers, and with his free hand, extracted the sealed envelope from his inside breast pocket.

"Deliver this to the palace for me?"

The little girl laughed. "Unlikely! The guards at the gate'd chase me away faster than you could blink."

Cain's expression stayed steady, though he was growing impatient. All this negotiation was taking up too much of his remaining time. "The man in the guard-house is named Halstor. You call him by name and you tell him that you've got a message for _Glitch._ Understand?"

The girl gave a ghost of a nod. She reached out for the platinum, grinning when Cain didn't try to pull it away again. A moment later, she snatched the envelope out of Cain's hand, turned it over to read it, then looked up at him questioningly. "It ain't addressed."

"No," Cain said, and he settled his lips into a grim, intimidating line, a stance that had its intended effect; the girl shrunk back a bit, clutching both items in her hands a little tighter. "But the envelope is _sealed_, darlin', and believe me, they'll notice if it isn't when it arrives. Ya hear me?"

The girl swallowed hard, then nodded with a serious conviction he had yet to see her consider. When she looked up at him, her brown eyes were a little more trusting, as she shared a secret with the stranger before her, seeming to sense that she was doing something of great importance.

"You don't put that in anyone's hand but the man called Glitch," he said firmly, and she nodded with wide eyes once again. "You'll know him by the scar he's got, right here." He tipped his hat back to graze his fingers over the center of his forehead, near his hairline. The girl paled, and Cain touched her shoulder lightly. "Get goin' now."

The girl turned on her heel and set off at a run into the early hours of the still-dark morning, turning a corner and disappearing from his sight. He was headed in the other direction in the next moment, not wanting to be caught by the girl's employers, and asked about her whereabouts.

The wind picked up around him as he left the gates of the city; he buttoned up his duster as protection against the creeping fingers of cold that wanted to sneak inside his clothing, down to his skin, and his very core. _August... when did the damn winters start coming so early? _he thought bitterly, as a shiver overtook him.

More coinage for the stable-hand who allowed him entry at the ungodly hour; Cain sent the man back to his bed and saddled his own horse. Juniper, to her credit, stayed incredibly still as Cain's cold, numb fingers worked the fastenings of the tack. She looked at him with sad, black eyes as she stood patiently and waited for him to mount.

The ride around the city to the West gate was short, and it was just outside the circle of light cast by the beacons that Cain met the caretaker, who was waiting for him. Jowan wore a black coat that had seen better days, and his gelding was brown, of darker colouring than Cain's own mare.

"You seem to be missing something precious, Captain," Jowan said with a sly grin, by way of a greeting.

Cain frowned. "She'll be along soon enough, Old Man."

Jowan gave a deep, and heavy sigh. "There are more dangers lurking on the road than you'd expect, Cain," he said slowly, looking at Cain with sharp hazel eyes. The wrinkles on his face leant proof to his age, but the confidence in his voice suggested at a deeper virility, a side of the old man that Cain had seen more than once – one kept carefully hidden about the palace.

"What are you goin' on about?" Cain asked cautiously.

Jowan shook his head, watching the West gate intently for signs of DG. "There's a war brewing."

Cain cleared his throat, the only action he would lend to the surprise he felt at the declaration. "And how can you be sure of that, Old Man?"

Looking away from the gate, Jowan shot Cain a patronizing look. "Boy, my entire life I've stood by and watched. Paid more attention than any man should. I can see the pieces lining up as easily as I can see the suns rising every morning... now that I'm above ground, that is," he said, and he gave Cain a rueful smile. "And I can tell you this, as certainly as I can tell you that I was sent by the outlanders to keep an eye on that Daughter of Light: war's coming. Maybe its already begun."

"How do you know?" Cain repeated firmly. Casting a long look at the gate, he saw no sign of anyone, no guard, no princess, no falcon. There was an unsettled feeling in his chest that was beginning to grow and rise, causing his jaw to set and his teeth to grind together. He glared hard at the old man, who seemed unfazed by Cain's growing temper.

"Things are happening," Jowan said, keeping his words clipped and his tone vague. "A scout arrived just last night in Central to hear updated news on the Gale princess. There I was, worried I'd have nothing to pass along, as I surely couldn't tell him that the princess had been spirited out of the city a week before by her Tin Man bodyguard."

Cain bit back a lash-out, letting the old caretaker continue. Jowan could see the tensing in Cain's facial features, and he smirked.

"The _scout,_" Jowan went on,_ "_had some interesting news out of the West. Seems there's a new power vying for the throne of the O.Z." He allowed a moment for Cain's reaction; the slightest downward twitch at the corner of Cain's mouth seemed to be enough for him. "_She_, whomever this witch is, has been courting the Commander and his armies, looking for supporters. As we speak, she travels back to the Southeast, back to the forest where she's been hiding out for the last annual with the Longcoats. But you knew about most of this, didn't you?"

Cain frowned, and stared at the old man hard. "Some of this is new information, but not all," he admitted. He gripped the reins hard; so the road to the west was travelled by the new power, and a contingent of her Longcoats. That changed almost everything, and some of his earlier unease returned with a vengeance.

Jowan shrugged his shoulders. "The scout had quite a bit to say on the subject of the Lady that seeks the aid of the outlanders. When I returned to the palace... why, not two hours later, I've got you, appearing out of nowhere, demanding to know the way west."

Cain frowned. Mere coincidence... or perhaps, he and DG weren't moving as fast as they needed to on this damn quest. His brain seemed to go into overdrive, considering the news Jowan had just given him – the outlanders were being sought to support the Longcoat army. It was distressing to say the very least – at worst, it could possibly be the worst news he'd yet received in this entire damn ordeal.

Jowan read the disquietude coming from the Tin Man, and offered a small smile. "Outlanders have always remained neutral in the affairs of the human kingdoms surrounding the Outlands – as long as they were paid a tidy sum to do so, of course. However, I don't think the Commander would side against the Gale dynasty when they still hold something he wants most desperately."

"The stone," Cain said aloud, though he needn't of.

Jowan nodded grimly. "Its all lining up," he said. "Coming together. More than coincidence, or Fate. I may just be an old slave, Captain – " And here he paused, to nod at the shadowed figure that had arrived between the great gate pillars, set at a dead run with her hair flying behind her – DG.

"I serve the Gales, and I do so loyally," Jowan said, and caught Cain's eyes one final time as the princess approached. "I have watched, and I have reported. However, I think its about time I returned home. I miss my wife. Whether or not the Gales fall is beyond what even I can discover." And then, faster than Cain could catch – so fast, he thought the old man might be in possession of a little magic of his own – Jowan went from a look of dire uncertainty to one of impassive kindness.

"Your Highness," Jowan said, as DG came closer, her breath puffing out in clouds before her. She looked up at Cain with hesitant eyes. "Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?"

* * *

***

* * *

Glitch awoke to frantic banging on his chamber door.

His eyes popped open blearily, as he sat up rigidly in his favourite chair, where he'd fallen asleep after arriving chilled to the bone the night before. The Tower, the meetings with the generals, the fretting of and over the Queen... all buzzing in his brain when he'd walked into his suite of rooms, tossing off his frock coat. After lighting a fire for himself, he'd sat down in his chair to have a good think... and now he was startled out of slumber, and someone was _still_ incessantly knocking at his door.

Getting out of his chair, Glitch stretched some of the stiffness from his back as he made his way to the door. A glance at the clock on the wall as he passed told him it was almost dawn. Who would be at his doorstep at this ghastly hour? He hoped it was no one of consequence... maybe it was someone desperately wanting his help – he liked when he could be someone's hero, fix a situation, do something _useful_, instead of something... _important_. It helped to distract him from his _real_ work.

_Ya know_, Glitch thought to himself, a little amused, _its amazing I get anything done at all._

Chuckling, he shook his head at himself, and then – _Who in the blazes is at my door? Oh right! The door! _

Leaping forward, he jerked the door open. On the other side stood Tutor, his head hanging and his fist raised in preparation for another barrage of knocks. Heaving a sigh, the old teacher raised his watery eyes to land squarely on his friend. "I was about to give up," he said sadly.

Glitch managed a grin that quickly turned into a yawn. Covering his mouth, he stood back for Tutor to enter, sweeping his free arm in welcome. "To what do I owe the surprise of this very early visit?" he asked, once he'd regained control over his mouth and tongue once more.

Tutor stopped in the center of the room and put his hands in his pockets. A small flag went up in Glitch's brain, and the smartest-man-alive in him began to take over. _He's nervous. I recognize that look. He's nervous. _Why_ is he nervous?_ his mind chattered very quickly.

"It seems that DG managed to pick up some company while out and about," Tutor said vaguely.

The advisor's darkly sculpted eyebrows perked upwards. "Is that so? What kind of company?" Knowing DG, it could be any manner of interesting character. Some lost soul she felt akin to, she had this awful habit of attaching herself to those in which she felt safety. She trusted on instinct, favoured blind leaps of faith. She could have picked up some renegade Longcoat, or Gods, maybe an outcast Papay...

"A teenager," Tutor said gravely.

Glitch considered this for a moment. A teenager didn't sound nearly as bad as what he'd been imagining, and he snickered at himself. "That's not so bad, why do you look so – _Great Gale!_" he exclaimed, putting a hand over his mouth as his jaw involuntarily dropped. Tutor only nodded, his lips set in a thin line, an unhappy curl to one corner of his mouth.

A brief few seconds passed before Glitch was able to regain his composure. "A girl?"

Tutor shook his head. "No, a boy. Tory, is his name. And worse, apparently he's a Slipper."

Immediately, things began to clear in Glitch's mind, and the actions of his friends made more sense... or at least, he hoped that his own conclusions were right. DG _would_ want to help someone from the Other Side, she'd relate more than most in the O.Z. ever could. And, there was no harm in a teenager, none – Cain would have eventually given in to her nagging about taking an extra person along. After all...

"_Hey, can I borrow your razor?" _

He tried to shake his head clear of the memories surfacing too quickly for him to fight, momentarily overwhelming him, like a dizzy spell that sends the vision reeling. Knocked off-kilter, he put his head in his hands. Some days... some days, he wondered if his brain might have been better off left pickling in the tank.

Tutor waited patiently, jingling what trinkets he held in his pockets while Glitch tried to restart his thought processes. Finally...

"How much does he know?" Glitch finally asked. His tone had dropped an octave, his voice becoming serious and soft.

Tutor sighed. "Enough, I think it would be safe to say. You can ask him yourself when you meet him today. I have to retrieve him from a safe-house in a few hours."

Glitch frowned. "Wait... what safe-house? Where are DG and Cain, and um..." He snapped his fingers impatiently at himself. "The feathery one... Corporal Hass. Where are they?" Though he didn't want to come off as demanding, he could feel it radiating off of his very skin, that need for information that pushed barriers of polite conversation aside in favour of shouted questions and dramatic replies. The Tin Man's tactics of 'shoot first, ask later' would have suited him just fine then, but for the fact that the man standing in front of him was his friend and colleague.

"They've already departed Central City," Tutor said, understanding flickering in his dark eyes, empathy towards the lonely advisor at the man's crestfallen look. Glitch's shoulders fell as he realized the opportunity he'd missed – not understanding, until moments like these, just how much his friends meant to him, how much he ached for DG's easy smiles, Cain's calm and steady presence.

"Well, I'll go with you to pick up the child," Glitch said, shaking his head sadly, trying to remove the loneliness from his mind, banishing the images of his friends, Cain's hat tipped low over his eyes, DG running barefoot through the palace. "I've got a meeting with Comptroller Spelling later this morning, so... how is ten o'clock for you?"

It was moments later that Glitch was ushering Tutor out the door, only to lean heavily on the wood once the portal was closed. With his eyes shut tight, and his fingers on his temples, he began to rub away the headache that was already beginning. A shower would be in order, and a bit of breakfast... something to give his day a sense of normalcy before he jumped into the duties that needed to be performed.

_Bang, bang, bang!_

Glitch jumped a good foot in the air, skittering away from the door as a heavy fist knocked again, another succession of three quick, hard bangs. Grumbling to himself now, half-wondering if he was going to get that shower, he yanked the door open impatiently.

On the other side was the gate guard, Halstor Mackenzie, looking exasperated and out of breath.

Glitch raised an eyebrow, and was about to say something, when there was an indignant exclamation that caused him to look down. Struggling in both hands on the guard was a scraggly-looking urchin, all fight and bluster, glaring at him apprehensively.

"Let go of me, will ya? I'm not doing nothing wrong!" The girl in Mackenzie's grip was trying to twist away from him, but he held her fast, looking impatient and fed up with his charge.

"That's a double negative," Glitch said with a smile, as he ignored the guard and knelt down to the little girl he held by the scruff of the collar. "What's your name?"

"Josey," she said, eyeing him warily. "What's a double negative?"

Glitch smiled. "Two forms of negation in a single clause make a double negative," he explained patiently.

The girl's eyes widened, and she took a step backwards towards her captor. Clearly, she thought he was insane. "Are you Glitch?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Depends on the day, Cupcake. What can I do for you?"

Josey considered him for a long moment, before giving her shoulder a good yank away from Mackenzie; Glitch gave the guard a nod, and the girl was released. Stepping forward, she reached out with a work-dirtied finger, and gently touched the scar that peeked out from Glitch's hairline. Crouching down, completely still, he closed his eyes as the girl's small digits brushed over the last remaining physical sign of his headcasing.

With a deep breath, she stepped back again. "Man in a hat paid me a platinum to deliver this to Glitch, at the palace," she said. She reached into the pocket of her ratty pinafore and pulled out an envelope, the outside of it bearing no writing, only an official seal of Central City in hardened, emerald-green wax. "Seemed kinda important."

Glitch took the envelope, offering the child another, brighter smile as he did so. "Well, thank you very much," he said. He dug into his pocket, and came up with a thimble, a long link of paper-clips, a few silver coins, and a crumpled platinum note. Handing the bill to the girl, he watched as her eyes shone at the sight of it. "A job well done! You come back to the palace when you've grown a little older, I'll hire you as my assistant, okay?"

Josey's brown eyes widened, if it were possible, and she smiled winningly at Glitch. "Thanks!" she exclaimed, and then immediately whirled on the guard at her back. "You gonna show me the way outta here, now?"

Glitch gave the guard an order to make sure the girl made it home all right, before he closed the door, listening to her mumble impudently as she was escorted out. Sighing, and shaking his head, Glitch tore open the envelope the moment he'd locked the door behind him. Dropping it on the floor, he unfolded the piece of paper he'd extracted from within, reading as he crossed the room to his window.

_Glitch. Headed West to visit old friends. Don't expect to see much of the suns. Keep a close eye on Tory. Kiddo says hi. W.C._

It took him four or five reads of the note before he truly believed he'd grasped what the Tin Man was trying to write. West... old friends... Outlanders. That one was easy enough. But... why would DG and Cain willingly seek out the Commander and his forces? Did they plan on crossing the border, the desert? Was this all part of DG's plan to find a way to destroy the Emerald?

What information could the Outlanders give her about the stone? Was that her motive? After all, it had been the Outlanders that had pulled the Emerald from the earth, all those annuals ago...

The one good thing, as far as Glitch could see, was that his friends were now out of the south, and away from the threats that lingered in the Black Forest. An over-active imagination shoved into his mind the image of his friends being captured by Longcoats... whatever information concerning her test DG had learned in the south, whatever was sending her west, he hoped it would keep her far north of the gorge. If the Longcoats found out a Gale princess was wandering the Ozian countryside with a company of only two guards...

Frustrated, Glitch tapped his knuckles against his own forehead. _Don't worry about DG; Cain's got her. They're out of the south now... away from _that_ danger and straight into another one... no, no, don't. You've got meetings to deal with, a teenage Slipper to worry about. Do your part, and allow them to do theirs._

Looking up at the clock, he frowned to see that it wasn't yet six o'clock. The suns hadn't even begun to rise. Gods, it was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

***

* * *

From the vantage point of a high crest in the Brick Route, Wyatt Cain scanned the horizon before him, straightening his legs in the stirrups to stand in the saddle as he did so. He felt DG's arms loosen about him, but she didn't let go. She'd been silent most of the trip, barely making any movement and at times making him wonder if she'd fallen asleep. She stayed steady behind him until he'd settled back down, satisfied that the road ahead of them was clear.

"Is everything okay?" she murmured into his ear, as the horse beneath them sidestepped impatiently. Jowan was already a few good paces ahead of them, and old Juniper was eager to catch up and keep going, as if she knew they had a schedule to keep.

Cain sighed, and gave the reins a gentle pull, to turn the mare's direction to give DG a better view of the road that lay ahead of them, and the sky in the distance. "You see those heavy grey clouds sittin' on the horizon?"

"Yeah," she said slowly, squinting at the thin waves of grey hovering over the hazy outline of the mountains in the far west. Turning away from what lay ahead, she looked behind her, to where the Tower could still be seen, shrunk to model-size. The Brick Route twisted in a pale, golden string behind them; it had carried them safely around the Tower, and they hadn't met up with a single route patrol.

Cain cleared his throat, and DG's head snapped around to look at him. Nodding his head toward the road ahead, he frowned. "Snow. We'll catch up with it sometime tomorrow," he informed her, before he dug his heels in and the mare set off; he transitioned her into a canter that would overtake the old man within ten minutes. He didn't worry about losing him; the road stretched out, snaking a trail across the countryside that he could see for miles.

His eyes constantly ahead of him, searching the trail; he saw where paths branched off the main road, both those used by small animals, and those used by humans and larger beasts; he saw where the land had been damaged by the presence of people, and where it was thriving. Things his father and uncles had taught him, things he'd passed onto his son... not all knowledge, no, the time for that had never come, had been cut short by the arrival of the Longcoats at the cottage by the creek.

Frowning deeply, and shaking his head at himself, Cain tried to clear the utterly useless nostalgic thoughts of his old life, of his son. Adora had done a worthy job with Jeb during Cain's imprisonment in the suit, and he couldn't ask for much more; Jeb was a fine young man.

It did no good to think of Jeb, or where he might be. Deep in the southeast by now, of that Cain had little doubt. Azkadellia's news of his son's mission had come the night DG had disappeared from Milltown, summoned to Central City by her sister's magic, and set upon the path that would lead her to the Reader, almost a week prior now.

His chance to ask after his son had passed when they'd missed Ambrose in Central City. He'd felt disappointment over that, surely enough, but he'd steadfastly reminded himself there was nothing to be done over it. There were too many other concerns, and Jeb had a good head on his shoulders, and a brave streak a mile wide.

It didn't escape his notice that his son's current mission now rested in the same location that he and DG were eventually headed. His mind stressed greatly the fact that he _did not want _to meet his son in the Black Forest. Whatever information Jeb was ordered to gather from the 'Coats, Cain found himself hoping that his son's task would be complete before he and DG tried to cross the shield, to the heart of the forest at Deadwood Fall.

It was then that Wyatt Cain found himself hoping – foolishly hoping – that there would come a time when he'd be face to face with his son again, in Central City... when the Emerald was destroyed, and the Longcoat threat neutralized, whatever guiding force behind the enemy imprisoned or killed. Such impossible tasks – Cain had to remind himself that he'd faced worse.

It wasn't more than a minute later that his mount was breaking stride with the old man's. Giving a slight tug on the reins, his mare slowed her pace to match the beast beside her.

"About time you caught up, Boy," Jowan laughed at him, tossing a toothy grin in the direction of his companions.

Cain tossed him an indulgent smirk. "Don't be wearin' yourself out before we reach the lake, Old Man. Remember, this is the easy part of the journey."

DG's arms tightened instinctively around him, and a tinge of guilt settled on his shoulders. Though she'd been resting her cheek between his shoulder blades since she'd grown quiet, she sat up straight now, turning her head to face Jowan. Cain imagined that she must have smiled at him, because moments later, the old man's thin lips were stretching into a warm smile, and he gave the princess a small nod.

Side by side, the three continued at a steady, somewhat rushed pace. Cain urged them forward, pushing his mount and that of the caretaker beside him, knowing that they would be hard-pressed to reach Lake Lillay before the suns set in three hours. They'd left the Tower behind, but there was still a good stretch of forested distance between their current position and the lake that was their destination for the night.

The Brick Route made a sharp turn, and the trees had sprouted up so thick close to the road that it was a blind corner. As they rounded it, a strange, dark sight caught Cain's eye immediately. A lone figure sat at a juncture in the road, two miles or so ahead, a horse grazing nearby – a traveller, stopped for a rest.

Cain pulled back on the reins, and his mount slowed down to a walk. It took the old man and his gelding a handful of paces to recover, but soon they'd sidled up to Cain and DG, and Jowan was frowning with impatience.

"What seems to be the problem?" he prompted, arching a brow.

"Traveller up ahead," Cain said, jerking his chin down the road, to the figure that was coming into slower clarity, more distinguishable now than the terrain on which he waited; the stranger's mount had looked up at the approaching travellers. Jowan stood up in his saddle a moment, squinting, before urging his mount to a quicker trot.

"We keep going," the old man said firmly.

Cain ignored him, keeping the mare at a slow walk; he twisted slightly in the saddle toward the girl who clung to him. "Hide your face, Darlin'," he said, and moments later a small static charge swept across the light hairs on the back of his neck as she complied. Satisfied, catching a glint of blonde under her hat, he turned away from her.

"What about you?" she asked, and he could hear the effort in her voice to keep it innocent and calm. There was a hidden edge there, an anxiety.

Doing his best to try and quell her worries, he reached slightly behind him to give her thigh a squeeze, where it was molded along his own. "Don't you go worryin' about me," he told her, letting a smile creep into his voice as she tightened her legs around him. He gave his mare a nudge, and they were off a little faster, catching up to the old man long before they reached the fork in the road.

Cain kept his eyes trained on the figure in the distance until they were within half a mile. He could see better now that the figure – male, by his guess – was sitting on a pile of rocks that had been erected as a type of perch for just the purpose the man was using it for now. He scanned the trees at the junction, on the branch of Brick Route that continued on, and the rough wagon trail that met with it; he searched for anyone hidden, for signs of ambush, but he saw nothing that roused any alarm in him.

As the two horses, and their three riders, approached, the male figure stood – the slight bow to the back, the timidness that radiated from as far as a quarter of a mile told Cain that he wasn't human, but a Viewer. His relief further intensified when, far above the head of the Viewer, a falcon settled down into the branches of a tall pine, folding its wings, and looking down at the character below with curiosity.

It didn't take a moment more before Cain was rolling his eyes at his own stupidity and paranoia; he urged his mare faster and DG gave a little shriek as the horse broke into a run, tightening her arms around him as she was nearly unseated. "What're you doing?" she shouted over the clatter of horseshoes on brick.

"Its the Furball," he said over his shoulder. Surely enough, the Viewer at the fork in the road stepped forward, and as Cain reined his horse to a halt, he was faced with Raw. First holding out a hand to help DG dismount, and then jumping down himself, Cain let the relief wash over him. As his back was turned, there was another shriek from DG, and then a _thud _as Raw had all the air knocked out of his chest with the force of her embrace. After DG had extracted herself from Raw, Cain greeted him with a smile and a clap on the shoulder.

"Raw! What are you doing here?" DG exclaimed happily, ignoring the old man as he caught up and dismounted; Cain watched, however, as Jowan gave Raw a small, reverential bow of the head, before stepping back and immediately blending into the scenery, as if he wasn't even there.

Keeping the old man in the periphery of his vision, Cain turned his attention back to DG and Raw.

"Raw sensed friends might need his help," the empath said cryptically, as he cocked his head from side to side, studying the princess who stood in front of him, grinning madly. It eased Cain greatly, to see her so happy; anything to distract them all from the tasks that lay ahead was welcome.

"I don't know about _help_, but we're glad for the company!" DG stated with a laugh, reaching out to take Raw's gloved hand. At the touch, Cain watched as the Viewer flinched, a gesture that was completely in his eyes, as he kept his face smiling at the princess who held tight to him.

Cain didn't need a Viewer's heart-sight to know that Raw sensed something when he touched DG.

Sighing heavily, Cain looked upwards to where the falcon perched above their heads, in as natural a state as any other tree or creature they'd come across. He remembered back, to two nights before, as they'd camped before the Papay fields, on their way back to Central. DG had cried out in her sleep for Raw... and now, here was their friend, in the flesh.

The old man's words from the morning came back to haunt him, echoing in his mind.

_Lining up... coming together... More than coincidence, or Fate._..

Whatever he knew, or didn't know, the old man had one thing right: things were starting to happen, and probably had been for a while. It was only now, with that strange look in Raw's eyes when he held DG's hand, that Cain started to truly pay attention.

* * *

_Author's Note: I love updates, do you love updates? I know that's a lot of plot, and not a lot of fluff. I'll try to make it up to you soon, okay? Leave me a review if you've got a spare minute!_


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

_Author's Note: I've been awful with my updates, and I apologize. A lot of "real life" has been going on, but hopefully, things are calming down enough that I can try to make regular time for writing. Lots of actual plot (YAY!) and some naughty-fluffy bit. Hopefully, we can sneak some smut in, as well. We're back to the entire "an adventure is a bad time for a love-affair" deal. We'll work it in, I think._

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Three**

Ambrose spent half the morning arguing with the comptroller over the distributions of new funds. Donations were pouring in from surrounding countries, each one with its own invisible political string attached. Support for the new Queen, in celebration of her coronation. The Reconstruction, the rebuilding of the country, he hoped was not coming with too high a price, as gifts from far off kingdoms reached out a tentative hand of friendship, after ten annuals of absolute silence.

When he finally broke away, leaving Spelling to his own devices, his mind was on DG and Cain as he hurried to meet with Tutor and the boy that was charged to him. If his friends had truly headed into the West, it could be days, perhaps even a week, before there was any word from them. These periods of quiet bothered him in a way he couldn't quite explain, to himself or to someone else.

There were elements that Ambrose couldn't quite put his finger on. Why his friends would seek the Outlanders, when DG hadn't completed her task, and was not ready to hand over the stone? Unless, of course, DG _had_ completed her task... but a magical event of that magnitude would have been felt by Azkadellia, if not by the entire country; after all, hadn't the beam of the Sorceress' Tower been seen from every corner of the Zone the day of the Eclipse?

What could DG and Cain possibly hope to achieve by tracking down Outlanders in the mountains... which would, of course, mean that there were Outlanders, _in the Zone_. It was too impossible... and it made his brain buzz, and his head hurt, to think about it.

Trying to wash his mind clear, he gave one last thought to his friends, hoping that they were sound and fine. It had been quite some time since the two of them had been thrown together before their secret departure from Central City in the dead of night. Would Cain get the better of DG with his refusal to rise to her antics... would she frustrate him to hell with her constant desire to do things the difficult way, with her stubborn hard-headedness?

Not that it mattered, not at all. Around the young princess, the tension went out of the Tin Man's shoulders; around Wyatt Cain, DG took things a little more seriously. In the medium between the extremes they lived, the two found a coexistence that thrived. Given the chance, anyway... which, in all honesty, they fought for. If ever the two of them had a chance to settle down, they might go stir crazy with the quiet of a normal life.

_Normal life, normal life... what is that, anyway?_ Ambrose wondered as he made his way to his study. It was there that the boy, Tory, and Tutor waited for him. There were things to discuss, and a few kinks to be worked out of this plan that had descended upon him.

He was a Fixer of Things. That much, he could do.

Opening the office door, his first impression of the boy was that his clothes were strange, and reminded him, in a way, of DG, and the first time he'd laid eyes on her. The boy wore the same loose, long dungarees, a sloppy long-sleeved shirt with an insignia of some sort on the front. A knit cap sat on his head, hiding unruly hair, and dirty shoes – complete with _laces – _poked out from underneath his pants... oh yes, this was a child of the same world as his DG, of that much he was certain.

Striding forward, he reached out to shake the boy's hand. With a tentative flick of the eyes to the old teacher who stood by the window, Tory returned the gesture, giving Ambrose's hand a few quick pumps before quickly releasing him again. "Um, hi," Tory said, when Ambrose only smiled at him.

"Welcome to Alta Torretta," Ambrose said, as he went to his bookshelves and began to look for something very specific. It nearly sapped up all of his attention, and he barely registered that the kid was talking. Turning around, he gave a sheepish smile. "What was that?" he asked.

"I was asking if you're DG's friend, Glitch."

Ambrose – Glitch – gave a little laugh, and an affirming nod. "Yep, that would be me," he said, jabbing himself in the chest with a thumb. "I'm the one that's going to be arranging a way home for you. Although," he said, as he went back to the shelves, "it looks like it might take a little longer than it normally would."

"What? Why?" asked Tory, incredulous.

Tutor spoke up. "Ambrose, an escort for the child can be arranged within hours; with the help of an alchemist, he could be home in time for supper."

"And how do you expect to stir up a travel storm in weather like this?" Ambrose asked Tutor impatiently, turning around to sweep an arm in the direction of the window. Frost was creeping up around the edges of the glass, and the day outside looked bitterly cold, the suns doing little more than lighting the day, offering no warmth to those they shone down upon. Not a single summer on record had ever seen temperatures as cold as these. "The alchemists cannot awaken a storm, not in this cold, there would not be enough build up of magical energy to allow the Slip to take place."

Tutor walked away from the window, his hands in his pockets as he took slow, leisurely steps. "A magically-summoned travel storm, then," he said smugly. "The child needs to return to the Other Side."

"Hey, not a child," Tory piped up, but he was largely ignored.

"Yes," Ambrose acquiesced, staring pointedly at Tutor, "that is the solution. On the ball today, are we?"

Tutor shot the advisor a patronising glare. "There are mages among Her Majesty's advisors," he said easily, giving the kid an encouraging nod. Ambrose turned to Tory, to see him standing with his hands on his head, as if trying to hold the knit cap on; he looked overwhelmed, and a bit bewildered, but he seemed to have DG's level of acceptance. Having already seen magic first hand in Tutor's transformation might have helped that along.

"And which of Her Majesty's advisors shall we trust with this little secret, eh?" Ambrose hissed, jerking a thumb toward the kid. Tory, to his credit, looked unimpressed with the former headcase's assessment of him, but kept his mouth firmly shut, tongue in cheek. Tutor looked expectantly at Ambrose, knowing the man was already two steps ahead and would soon – if he hadn't already – worked out the solution.

"I will ask the Queen to help us in this matter," Ambrose said, knowing already that Azkadellia would do anything to help DG, even if it meant traipsing out to an empty field at six in the morning to conjure up a travel storm for the kid to cross back over. Lucky, that the kid had been sucked out of his reality by a natural storm, to be deposited here in the Zone, in the very laps of those who could help him get back home again. Fortuitous, even...

"It will have to wait until after the Harvest celebrations have come to a close," Tutor said off-handedly, as he shook his head at the situation; there was nothing else to be done. The kid was stuck for a few more days. With DG and Cain explained off at Finaqua, the newcomer's presence – a strange presence, to be sure – would draw more attention to the comings and goings of the palace.

"Nonetheless, I will speak to the Queen," Ambrose said. He began to roll up his shirt sleeves, his long, nimble fingers making quick work of it. "She might want to see the kid as well."

"Well," said Tory, the first words he'd spoken in more than a few minutes, blatantly trying to remind them of his presence. "Am I going back to the apartment, then?" He brushed off the fact that he might end up having to meet the Queen of this odd place he'd found himself landed in.

"No," Ambrose said; he nodded a goodbye at Tutor as the old teacher slipped out quietly, the door making no noise as it closed behind him. With a sigh, he turned to the kid, and gave him a weak smile, one that ended on a laughing breath. "You'll stay here at the palace."

"Oh," Tory said, and he shifted uncomfortably. Unconsciously, he wiped his palms on his hips as he looked around. "Are you sure I can't go back to the apartment? I don't think I could stay here. Its kinda... fancy." His attempt at finding a word to explain the grandeur that intimidated him fell hopelessly short.

Ambrose offered up another smile; jumpy, uneven gestures, separate instances, instead of a constant smile, one that didn't fade. Oh well, there would be reason to smile soon enough... "You'll be fine here."

Tory gave a small nod, though he still looked entirely disbelieving, an emotion he didn't try to hide. More and more, this kid was reminding Ambrose of DG, and he wondered when it would begin to get frightening... right now, it was still slightly amusing. "Is there somewhere I can lie down, then? Captain Hard-Ass wasn't big on rest-stops."

Ambrose snorted a laugh, covering his mouth to hide the shamefully gleeful grin. "Sure," he said, nodding toward the door. A hundred empty beds were scattered throughout the palace. "Don't let meeting Azka-Dee worry you; _trust _me, she's a kitten now. So, lets go find you somewhere to sleep."

_Somewhere that I can keep an eye on you, _Ambrose thought. If this kid was as much like DG as he thought, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Tory would need to be watched... and carefully.

* * *

***

* * *

Wyatt Cain crouched down near the edge of Lake Lillay, one knee in the wet, cold sand as he watched the stars begin to come out. Night had fallen while they made camp, and they'd eaten by firelight. With the excuse of going to find more firewood, Cain had disappeared from the group – or at least, from the sight of DG, Raw, and old Jowan. He didn't take his eyes off of them, hidden in shadow, as he met with the corporal.

Hass's words had been less than comforting.

"From what tracks I've spotted, there's been some movement in these mountains in the past week," Hass had said, before taking a long drink from the canteen offered to him by Cain. He'd turned down the small meal Cain had brought with him, with a vague comment that he'd do just fine as was. Cain, not surprisingly, had found himself better off not knowing – after all, falcons were birds of prey.

"How many men, do you figure?" came Cain's only remark.

"A dozen, or more. Came through on horseback, not more than three days ago."

Cain had nodded slowly. "You see those snow clouds?" The gathering of dark, grey clouds on the horizon had been promising snow, and he was almost certain they'd hit it by late afternoon, the next day.

Hass had looked at Cain, quite grimly. "It'd be hard to miss them, Captain."

Nothing more was said between the two, and Cain had heaved a deep sigh, before dismissing the corporal and sending him back to his post. He hadn't foreseen, when Ahamo had ordered the second soldier along on this foray, that the young corporal would be relying so much on his unique abilities. But more than anything, Cain needed the perspective that only Hass could attain, his bird's-eye view on the mountains that would give them whatever slight advantage over the threat of Longcoats on the road.

Cain suspected that the old man had noticed the falcon following them, though of that fact he couldn't be sure. As a member of the palace staff for the past annual, Jowan would be aware of Hass's capabilities. And Cain knew, without a doubt, that he, himself, and the young shapeshifter would be well remembered from their time in the Commander's slave quarters, and their narrow escape.

Instead of returning to the camp, Cain had skirted the edge of the circle of light, making no sound as his boots descended upon the matted grass that covered the forest floor. An hour or so before the first sun had set, when they'd reached the lake, they'd left the Brick Route, and walked the shore until rounding a bend that would hide the light of their fire from the road. It was secluded, and Cain had ordered the fire kept small to hide their presence as much as they could. As they hid under the unassuming guise of anonymous travellers, there was little chance that anyone on the road would take the time to bother with them, if their presence was noticed at all.

Kneeling on the shore now, his knee in the sand long since gone numb, he let his eyes fall from the sky, onto the mirror-like surface of the lake. Most stars were still too faint to be reflected in the water, but Cain knew that once the moons rose, it would be a sight to behold. There wasn't much in him that was nostalgic or sentimental, but every so often he'd come across a pretty sight that would demand he stop and take a second look. Not that he minded, no... his second chance at life had reinforced inside of him the need to slow down his pace once in a while. DG took care of the rest.

Behind him, he could hear the crackling of the small fire, and the murmuring of DG and Jowan as they poured over a ratty old map he'd pulled from his rucksack; Cain had heard the delight in DG's voice when the old man had produced it, but as she'd stared at it, he could hear her tone become more and more serious, as she realized how far they yet had to go to reach their destination, and all the distances that would have to be travelled after. To the tombs, to the Black Forest, and the temple at its heart in Deadwood Fall, and any and all stops in between.

There was a shuffle of footsteps behind him. As silently as the Viewer tried to move, Cain could hear him approaching. With a muffled groan, Cain rose to his feet, stretching out his sore legs after sitting still for so long. Raw held his hands clasped together before him in supplication, and Cain felt himself relax almost immediately as he was joined by his friend; the calming effect that Raw had on not only him, but on DG and Glitch as well, was something unspoken, one more bond that held the four together.

"We ride many miles today," Raw commented easily, quietly, as he stared, as Cain did, out at the water. Nothing but darkness straight out, but if the eyes were raised, the sky grew a little lighter, the wide-spread of it dotted with stars that illuminated the black even that tiny bit more.

"Got plenty more to go tomorrow," Cain replied. Standing with his feet apart now, he rested his hands firmly on his belt, a stance he'd come to find easy to relax into. His eyes flicked upwards again, to see the difference between sky and water, before lowering them once again to the surface of the lake.

A glimmer, faint and lonely, caught his gaze then, but it was gone before he could truly say that he'd seen anything at all... if he were to say it had been green, he'd have scoffed, and chastised himself. Shaking his head, he blinked once, and convinced himself it'd just been a trick, during the shift of his eyes from star to reflection.

"DG walks with heavy step," Raw continued. Narrowing his gaze, Cain glanced sideways. Raw only stared out, breathing deeply as he took in the view, and the crisp air. Seemingly enjoying the silence, lost in thought... but his words were very much in the moment, and Cain found them more than a little disconcerting.

"She's still determined to keep goin'." His response was not required, no, but the words came out anyway.

"Carries many burdens. More than she knows," Raw said, and his eyes moved to catch Cain's. "Strong and stubborn; DG does not know when to quit."

Cain found himself nearly snorting with laughter, though it wasn't something he found funny. "That ain't somethin' you need to be tellin' me, Furball," he reminded Raw firmly; perhaps, even, a bit too harshly, as the Viewer's eyes fell away, and he gave a small nod, as if affirming something secret to himself. Cain frowned, but held back the growl that threatened to accompany it. He wanted to move the conversation away from DG, as all the uncertainties surrounding the princess, and himself, frustrated him to a point he'd rather not get to; however, he had a feeling that there was no steering away from talking about DG... she was central. As before the Eclipse, in the last days – their first days – it all seemed to connect to her.

A long stretch passed, as Cain listened to the popping of the logs in the fire, the quiet murmur of DG and Jowan as they poured over the map, before he opened his mouth again, ready to try it all from another angle.

"So how'd you manage to know where to find us?" he asked, allowing a wry half-smile to curve his lips.

Raw looked sideways at him, his grin wider, with a show of sharp teeth. "Raw feel DG call out for him," he said simply, with a shrug of his shoulders. He raised a gloved hand to touch his own fur-vested chest, his palm flat and firmly pressed. "Can't explain how, just is. Understand?"

Cain's lips settled into an unimpressed line fast. He said nothing, as there wasn't much to say; he wasn't about to debate with the Viewer about what his heart-sight could or could not pick up on. All he knew was that DG had been crying out in her sleep two nights previous for the Furball, and then, out of nowhere, he joins up with them, ready to help her. As he'd promised... as they all had, in their own ways. As he guarded her with his life now, as Glitch did anything and everything in his knowledge and power to keep DG's disappearance from Central City a secret.

A part of Cain knew DG's magic had something to do with Raw's sudden appearance, and that troubled him more than it should. And to let that fact go wouldn't be easy... hell, probably wouldn't be happening at all. No, he had to put it to the back of his mind, at least... he didn't need one more thing to worry about.

Almost as if knowing he'd thought of her, that his blue eyes watched her from the darkness beyond the light that surrounded her, DG stood up from the old man's side by the fire, and walked down to the lake, following the direction in which Raw had disappeared. When she reached her two friends, she put a hand on Cain's arm, looking up at him enquiringly.

"Everything all right?" she asked.

Cain nodded, casting one last look out at the water before turning back to her completely. "Yeah," he said, "everythin's fine." He allowed her to lead him back up the small slope to the camp; they would leave before dawn the next morning, and sleep would be good for all of them.

* * *

***

* * *

Morning arrived for DG before the first sun rose. It took her a moment to open her eyes after Cain had jostled her; she looked up, and their gazes locked. It was hard to read his expression, it was long before dawn and the fire had died down to a smouldering glow. But even in the faint, inconsistent light, she could see the conflict of his impatience with his willingness to wait for her. There was wanderlust in his blue eyes, that much she could see clearly. Whether he was unaware of it, or unable to hide it, she didn't know, but it seemed to put a fire under her seat, either way.

She sat up quickly, bracing herself for the chill of the morning; she was faster than he was, and sitting up next to him before he could move to stand. Reaching over, DG hooked a finger into the open collar of his grey shirt, forcing him to lean into her or else topple over completely as she unbalanced him with the simple tug. His hand shot out, arm locking to brace himself. With a grin, she nuzzled her nose into his neck. "Morning," she mumbled, inhaling the scents of dust and smoke that lingered on his skin.

A low rumble emitted from the Tin Man's throat; with his cheek pressed into her hair, she felt his jaw clench and unclench before he spoke. "Mornin' to you, too, Darlin'."

She let him go, and pulled back a little, completely happy with the little growl of annoyed surprise she'd gotten out of him. But, as she made to scoot away from him, Cain's right arm circled her shoulders, pulling her back toward him. A gasp tumbled out of her mouth, as he leaned over her and placed a soft, simple kiss on her lips, drawing out the touch for a long moment before finally moving away. He stood, and held out a hand to help her to her feet; once standing beside him, she couldn't fight back a grin any longer.

"You're pretty happy for someone whose got another day long ride ahead," Cain said, his voice sparking approval in her smile, which made her heart swell; there was little room inside of her for worry about Longcoats or emeralds, not when moments like this could sneak up and wash it all away... brief seconds, over too quickly, but still tangible, and _there_.

DG took a quick peek around at her surroundings – Jowan was down by the lake, saddling the horses, she could see the glint and flash of the buckles in the waning light of the moons as they set over the water; Raw was nowhere to be seen. Turning back to Cain, she caught his eyes with hers, and perked an eyebrow at him playfully.

"I could do without the ride, but being pressed against you all day isn't too bad," she murmured, her smile faltering nervously around the edges when a knowing smirk took over his face, and he glanced down at her in a completely different way, his eyes reading hers for sincerity, perhaps, or intention.

With that arrogant half-smile still on his lips, he leaned over her to place a kiss on her crown, whispering huskily into her hair before pulling away. "Is that how you want it, with me behind you?" His words caused an involuntary shudder to run down her spine, but he didn't stay to see the effect he'd had on her. He walked briskly down to the lake-shore, back to what needed to be done before they could leave, but with a promise of what would come... eventually.

When Raw returned to her side, she was kneeling by the fireside, repacking her rucksack. With her hair brushed and tied back, her face and hands washed with lake-water, she felt ready to go. Tugging on her gloves, she turned to Raw and gave him a warm, tired smile.

"Do you think we'll see that snow Cain's promising?"

Raw nodded solemnly. "Before suns set. Will make passing through mountains difficult."

"Oh great," DG said, frowning. She looked up at the sky with a curious expression on her face; it was still complete darkness, but for a faint line of grey stretching out on the horizon. Stars still dotted the canvas of night, but even those were beginning to fade.

Raw chuckled. "Said difficult, not impossible."

She helped Raw purge the camp-site then, burying the remains of their fire. Cain insisted she ride in front of him, and she didn't much have the strength to argue; it was nice being tucked into the protective embrace she loved so, even if his earlier heated words still caused a bit of a blush in her cheeks. The quick pace, and the pounding of hooves on the rutted back-road that ambled into the northwest soon negated the need for her to do anything but relax into Cain's chest and watch the surroundings pass. It was boring, and uncomfortable, but the touch of his hand on her waist was soothing enough to keep her from going too crazy. As if he were reading her mind, or perhaps just her squirms, Wyatt seemed to sense when she grew restless. With gentle squeezes on her thigh, heavy caresses, he tried to calm her.

Though she'd never tell him, by the time midday had passed, his comforting touches became something of a unique torture, one that she wasn't about to ask him to stop. However, every time he ran his hand firmly over her thigh, sweeping his fingers downward to her knee, she felt herself beginning to writhe inside; despite the cold, parts of her grew hot. Damn the Tin Man, damn him to hell! With Raw riding slightly behind them, and Jowan a little way ahead, there was nothing she could do but turn her face into Cain's neck, and pray that she would be able to fall asleep.

Her mind, however, was merciless, and would not allow her to sleep; instead, her thoughts constantly wandered, skipping madly between worries of her sister, missing her mother, Cain's solid chest at her back, and the outlanders that grew closer with every passing mile. Closer still was the snowstorm that hovered over the mountains; eventually, the day began to grow prematurely dark as they reached the foothills, and the forest around them became denser, an overgrown place where wild things slept.

The promised snow finally began to fall in the late afternoon; the day was completely still, and she was musing that the weather had warmed slightly, when a wet drop on her hand caught her attention. Looking down, she caught sight of a little white snowflake, wet and heavy and destined to melt against her warm skin.

DG gave Cain a gentle nudge in the ribs; drawing his attention away from the road, she showed him the snowflake that had landed on her. With reins still in hand, he caught hold of her wrist and lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing away the little droplet of melted snowflake. His touch was warm, but barely there, the merest hint of a tease. Curling her lips into a displeased frown only caused a chuckle to rumble in his chest, and he tucked her a little more securely into him.

It wasn't long before the snow was falling in earnest, light and fluffy flakes that stuck to her hair, and gathered on his shoulders. It was near four o'clock when they stopped, but it was only her guess; without the suns, or a watch, she was flying blind in that department.

"We don't want to head any further up the mountain tonight," Wyatt said, helping her down off the horse with steady hands on her hips. "Not if this storm is gonna pick up." The snow had been coming down at a steady pace for almost two hours by that point, and the temperature was beginning to drop once again. The ground was thinly blanketed with wet snow; wherever they or the horses stepped soon became a muddy, slushy mess. There were ground cloths to sleep on, packed into the saddlebags, but it would still be a miserably cold night.

At least there was the bustle of making camp to keep her warm at that moment; she was shivering and her fingertips were numb, and the bottom-half of her body felt assaulted from the day's hard ride. Jowan and Raw took over the horses, making sure each was fed and rubbed down.

Cain was kneeling in the center of the tangled copse they'd found for a camp-site, bent over as he built a fire. The length of his duster hid the magnificent view she would have otherwise been afforded, and she grinned, before rolling her eyes at herself. _Get a grip, girl,_ she thought, frowning as she heard a low growl of frustration from him. Because of the snow, the dead-fall he'd found for firewood was wet. She'd once made the mistake of offering the services of her magic to help him with the fire... and she'd been treated to a rather grumpy earful. Whether it had been the offer of help, or the suggestion that magic could do what he could not, that had offended him, she still couldn't be sure, so now, she kept her mouth shut. Torn, she realized that if he needed her help, he would seek her out.

The snow was beginning to fall a little faster, the flakes a little more solid, heavier, when the thought of dry firewood crossed her mind. With the forest growth as thick as it was, the copse that they'd found couldn't be the only hidden thicket; there would be smaller places that hadn't been touched yet by the snowfall.

Her brain on a mission now, it only briefly crossed her mind that she'd promised Cain that she would stay by his side. She hesitated for only a moment, before promising herself that she wouldn't go far. Her legs could do with a good stretch, anyway, and the crisp sound of the snow sifting through the branches above her head was an odd, natural harmony that lulled her senses and made it easier to just follow her feet.

She walked up the overgrown road, catching eyes with Raw as she passed the Viewer and the old man, still busy with the horses. DG gave him a smile, not stopping as the decision to go exploring cemented a little more firmly in her mind. _Firewood, there probably is none that isn't soaked... still, it wouldn't hurt to look around a little._

The country through which they passed along the winding, narrow road was hilly, with giant rock outcrops that reminded her of the mountainous land that surrounded Finaqua. Everything was white with snow, as far as she could see, which – she had to admit – wasn't very far at all. The trees grew too close together, and the foliage both on the ground and on the branches above her head were thick, choking masses in one-hundred hues of green.

A trail of muddy, black footprints followed behind her, the treads of her sneakers leaving odd patterns stamped into the snow. It made it a little easier for her to press on a little farther... after all, Cain and Raw could easily find her, footprints would lead them straight to her.

Her thoughts had a strange way of straying when she walked; she recalled the walks around the lake at Finaqua she and Raw had taken daily, in the first days of the Reconstruction, while she'd sorted out what she felt about the changes in her life and he had patiently listened to every word, ambling along beside her and allowing her to set the pace of both their steps and the conversation.

Unrelenting, her mind shot back to the Realm of the Unwanted. What had the Reader told her? Closing her eyes, DG recalled the memory.

"_All I can tell you is that the way to enter the Longcoat base waits for you in the West."_

Cryptic words, coupled with the images that had flashed through the crystal ball, one after the other in a succession that had made her dizzy. Had she really seen glimpses of her future? Or merely just... pictures, as made up and insubstantial as dreaming?

Dreaming... her dreams had been speaking to her, as well. Telling her... what? To stay out of the Southeast; _duly noted, but sorry, I just have to go that way_. That someone, the ominous _She_, was drawing too close? What did that matter, to run from this strange 'she', who wanted the Emerald, just as the Sorceress had – _oh, the goddamn Emerald, _she thought, oddly registering how good destroying it was going to feel. What else had her dreams told her? Oh yes... the lion man and his... _"Courage. You're gonna need it to know him when you see him."_

The quest for firewood mostly forgotten, she came to a blind corner in the road, as it cut a path around a bluff that jutted crookedly across the forest like a scar; she let her head fall back, and her eyes went up and up, noting that the top of the rock-face was roughly even with the tops of the trees that grew next to the road on which she stood. Swallowing hard, she walked backwards a few steps, thinking this a good place to turn around, when she slipped in the snow and lost her footing.

DG landed hard on her bottom, and overbalanced backward, halting her shoulders just inches from hitting the road. With a groan, and a breezy laugh at herself, she lowered her shoulders the last bit, and rested her head in the snow to regain her bearings, and to give herself a good chewing out for losing herself so completely in thought. She knew that she wasn't hurt, but she was glad no one had seen her little tumble, because –

"How graceful," said a cold, out-of-place voice. "Hardly befitting of a princess."

DG didn't take the time to look around, only scrambled to her feet as fast as she was able. She found herself facing two soldiers in unfamiliar uniform – though she wasn't too slow to catch on that she was facing two former Longcoats, newly employed with the same old goal of power and conquest. The weapon of the second was trained directly at her, while the first – the one who'd spoken – stared at her with amusement in his eyes, a look she'd seen too many times to know it meant nothing less than a lot of trouble.

He stalked around her in a slow, predatory circle; too close, as his elbow brushed roughly against her arm. Her magic jolted like a shock through her veins at the unwanted contact, and she bit back hard the desire to send a energized blast of light at him. "An unguarded princess, can't have that," the soldier said with a sly smile. "What are you doing out here all alone, Highness?" His voice taunted her, but she stayed silent. The soldier, seemingly incensed by her quiet, clenched his jaw angrily. He lay a rough hand on her arm, curling his fingers into a vice-grip. "You're coming back to the camp with us," he instructed firmly. "Lady Catt is going to want to have a word with you."

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_Author's Note II: You know who rocks? erinm_4600 rocks. Big thanks to her for helping me with a problem in this chapter. Special thanks to leat79 and KLCtheBookWorm, for making me feel special. Also, as I stated above, its almost time for the muse and Cain to start negotiating a love scene. My muse is looking for support in this... reviews, anyone? _


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

_Author's Note: My sluggish updating continues. I have guilt. Maybe this will make up for it - I updated the _**CAST PAGE** _with two new characters (okay, one new, and an old favorite). The _**direct link**_ is on my profile page._

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**Chapter Twenty Four**

_I hate Mondays,_ Azkadellia thought dispassionately, as she finished unbraiding her hair. Her mind wanted to dwell on what had happened only a week before, the Monday morning that had seen Jeb leave, and the miscarriage she'd had only hours later. To use a bit of her sister's Other Side vernacular, Mondays _sucked._

Sitting before her massive vanity, she shook the long wave of dark hair free. Her hand quaked as she rubbed the back of her neck for a long moment. She'd sent all her maids and companions off, with the pretence of taking a much-needed rest before her private dinner with an ambassador of nearby Rossa – who would want, undoubtedly, to speak at length of the eligible younger sons of his noble king – which would extend long beyond a decent hour. A nap was required, all agreed – though Azkadellia did not hear the hushed voices in the hall after the women had been dismissed, whispering amongst themselves that the Queen _did_ seem tired lately.

A nap, however, was farthest from Az's mind. Instead, her every thought buzzed inside of her head as she waited for Ambrose and the boy who'd come to the palace seeking their aid. A child who'd been sent by DG and Cain. The report from Cain that she'd read the morning before, hand delivered to her by Ambrose.

_Glitch. Headed West to visit old friends. Don't expect to see much of the suns. Keep a close eye on Tory. Kiddo says hi. W.C._

"Who's Tory?" she'd asked, as her eyes had scanned the hastily scribbled note.

"A boy, apparently. He'll be retrieved and brought to the palace later today."

Her eyebrows knit together, and her gaze left the paper to find Ambrose's dark eyes. "I want to see him as soon as possible, do you understand?" she asked of him. With a solemn nod, he'd agreed... though neither of them would know then that schedules demanded 'as soon as possible' not be until the next afternoon. And only after she'd cancelled her afternoon session of answering correspondence, and sent all her maids away.

Az missed DG desperately, and talking to this boy who'd spent a good portion of the past week with Cain and DG would help to ease her agitation. Word out of the South grew steadily darker; the Longcoats were more visible now, their patrol numbers at the border of the forest shield were increasing.

She'd told her sister to stay out of the Southeast. The report from Cain had indicated they were heading West, in almost the complete opposite direction as the Longcoats and the threat of their unknown leader. Azkadellia could almost... _almost _hope that DG would be safe. After all, the girl had no reason to go into the Southeast in the first place.

Quickly changing into a lighter, more comfortable dress – one that she could wear with a waist cincher instead of a corset – she went into the sitting room to wait. The curtains had been drawn against the afternoon, and the lamps lit. The view from the balcony of the royal suite was breathtaking, but there was nothing in the Zone that she wanted to look upon on this dreary day. Summer, indeed. The snow was coming early, the Gale inside of her could smell it in the air, faint and far-off, but... _coming_.

There was a sharp rap on the door, and she stood, calling out a command for the doors to open. The guards standing in the hallway allowed Ambrose and the boy, Tory, entrance into her private sitting room. Ambrose smiled at the sight of her, his hands in his pockets as he strode in casually. The boy, a dark-haired teenager, absently pulled a knit cap off his head as he looked around at the black-and-gold painted walls, the metallic accents, the emerald-green tiled floor.

"Tory Jackson," Ambrose said, reaching out to tug on the kid's sleeve; Tory snapped to attention, closing his open mouth. "Her Majesty Azkadellia, Queen of the Outer Zone."

"Um, hi," Tory said with an awkward bow. Azkadellia couldn't help but smile at his nervousness; the kid was kind of cute. Though he'd been dressed properly, and now wore trousers and a vest, his shirtsleeves impeccably white, he still jammed the brown cap back down over his hair, throwing off his appearance. It reminded her of DG, and her sister's desire to wear her sneakers under floor-length ball-gowns.

"Hello," Az said, her smile breaking wider. "Do you come from Kansas, too?"

Tory seemed unaffected by this question. He went back to craning his neck at impossible angles as he took in the surroundings of the most elegant rooms in all of Central City. "No," he said. "Iowa."

Azkadellia nodded, having no way of knowing if his answer was acceptable or not. She studied Tory's honest face openly, and the boy stood still as she did so, though he quirked an eyebrow curiously at her intense gaze. "How do you like Central City?" she asked suddenly, snapping out of the reverie that had held her eyes, transfixed, on Tory's face.

"Its cool," he said absently, crossing his arms across his chest as he looked around again, relieved to be free of Azkadellia's scrutiny. "Its a bit different than I thought it would be; feels a bit like a bad sci-fi movie, but I could hang out here, no problem."

He walked deeper into the sitting room; Azkadellia was surprised at how immediately comfortable the child could become after the initial hesitation. His curiosity came as no surprise, as she spent a good deal of time around inquisitive people. DG asked questions about everything, when they were children and now as adults; Ambrose, beside her, had to touch _everything_, to turn it over, shake it, find out how it worked.

Tory, however, mostly kept his hands to himself. "So," he said slowly after a few minutes of casual, quiet observation. "I mean, um, Your Majesty. May I ask you a question?"

Azkadellia tried to smile at the kid. "If you'd like, I'll do my best to answer."

Tory considered that for a moment before making a few nervous gestures with his hands. "Well, on the Other Side... where I come from, I mean, you know, I don't think there are many princesses like DG."

Behind Azkadellia, Ambrose let out a snort of laughter. "There aren't that many on this side, either," he told Tory with a wink.

The smile Az had found hard to manage now surfaced, and the effort of it lifted something inside, as if just a simple stretching of her lips and cheeks could ease her burdens and sorrow. "No," she said. "DG does what she wants, and always has." This was an excellent segue into the true reason of calling Tory to her. Taking a deep breath, she felt her smile falter, become nervous. A queen, nervous? _Never._ "Tory," she said, her voice quiet and honest, and the boy's eyebrows perked with interest at her change in tone. "My sister is undertaking some work on behalf of the Zone. I'm sure you know this."

Tory nodded, a barely-there movement. "Yeah, I, uh... paid attention, a little."

"Only a little?" Ambrose questioned softly, breaking into the conversation and giving Azkadellia a little reprieve.

Tory glanced between the two, and then a small, knowing smile crossed his face. "Is there where I say I didn't see nothing or nobody, and I'll keep my mouth shut?"

Azkadellia didn't know what to say. She had no worry about the child; he would spend the next few days sequestered inside the palace. She decided that he was going to need a guard, someone who could keep an eye on him at all times. _Yes, because it always works so well with DG,_ her mind squeaked, and out of habit she almost replied vocally to the thoughts, opening her mouth ever so slightly before catching herself. With a sheepish glance towards Tory, Az nodded.

"I think that would be wise, Tory," Az said hesitantly, but after the words were out, her face shifted just so, her regal features taking on a softer angle. "But, how is DG?"

"Good, I think," he said, bobbing his head a little. "Kinda touchy." Tory looked for a signal from Ambrose, and with an encouraging nod, the boy spoke a little more freely. "She's all over the place sometimes, but it looks like Cain is doing a good job of helping her keep her head on straight."

Ambrose hid an affectionate smile behind his hand. "You wouldn't believe how little would get done if Cain weren't around."

Tory smirked. "Yeah, he's a good guy, I guess. A little old for her though, ain't he?"

Azkadellia fixed her eyes on Tory, trying to decide if she was surprised that such an observation came out of the strange teenager before her. She remembered being clever before the Possession, but timid and without such audacity. A big lot of good that had done her...

Something odd struck her then, like a tug on a non-existent sleeve. She gasped slightly at the other-worldly feeling of it, her perception off as the sensations made her fingertips tingle. A warm breeze blew over her, but... no, _no_, she was still in her sitting room, standing dumbstruck as Ambrose and Tory came to realize something _off_ had just taken place. As Tory glanced blindly around the room, looking for whatever had caused her to become mesmerized, Ambrose stepped up to Azkadellia and placed a hand securely on her elbow.

"Are you all right, Your Majesty?"

Azkadellia looked at him uncertainly, her eyes slightly glazed as she came back to herself. "Something just happened."

"I can see that, Majesty, but what does that mean?" he asked, a bit confused; his brow furrowed as he watched her carefully, wondering if something physical was overtaking her. Her complexion was unusually pale, her skin cold, her breathing shallow and fast.

Azkadellia had no words, but Tory gave a small snort of laughter. "I think that means she felt a great disturbance in the Force, 'Brose."

Ambrose's head snapped around as he turned to look at the boy. "You – wait, a disturbance in the what?"

Azkadellia, back to herself, turned to the boy as if he'd grown a second head.

Tory groaned, and pulled the knit cap on his head down over his eyes. "Never mind!"

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Unknown to the occupants of the Queen's suite, in the highest tower of Central City, the reason for the ripple in Azkadellia's internal serenity was a direct cause of DG, who was thinking of her sister, and a few long ago spoken words that were echoing faintly inside her head.

"_Your adventures have a way of getting me into trouble."_

DG frowned, closing her eyes momentarily in annoyance at her brain. What the hell did _that_ faded memory have to do with her current predicament? The part of her that had hesitated at leaving the camp-site was now smugly laying on the guilt. _I get it,_ she berated herself angrily, _no more adventures. They've got a way of getting _me_ into trouble._

The grabby soldier had a firm grip on her arm, and when it tightened, it brought her back to reality, the here and now of the trouble she once again had managed to find. _Really..._

With a hard outward shove of her free arm, she summoned a charge of light to move the soldier physically from her; she came to a sharp realization that she knew no offensive spells, knew no magic that would cause harm to those that tried to harm her. With the slightly unfocused burst of magic, the ex-Longcoat was thrown a few feet away as his partner cried out in surprise. DG whirled on the second soldier, prepared to try freezing him in place if she had to, gathering what energy she could spare from trying to keep her feet grounded, to stop herself from trying to run. She was too slow, however, and as she raised her hand, closing her eyes, the second soldier tackled her.

There was hardly enough snow on the ground to cushion the fall, and she landed hard on her back, the soldier's arms like a vice around her. Her scream of surprise had been cut short by the impact. The wind was knocked out of her chest, and she struggled as she gasped for air.

"_If our plan doesn't work, you will try to get outta there, right?"_

Cain... she tried focusing her energy again, to call for him, but her mind had barely formed his name, when the soldier pinning her to the ground gave a hoarse shout and released her. Some spark of magic had passed between them like electricity, and she didn't take the time to question it.

Free, she scrambled to her feet. One of the men yelled "Grab her!" but neither seemed inclined to touch her again or to fire their weapons. DG didn't take their eyes off of them, the two ex-Longcoats slowly advancing toward her as she backed slowly down the road the way she'd come.

"Hold still, Princess," said the soldier who'd tackled her, as he raised his weapon a little higher, to better train over her heart. Though she balked – and hated herself for it – she didn't stop moving, kept stepping backwards; she begged whatever force of luck that she'd come to rely on that she wouldn't trip, because she'd be a goner if that happened. Trying not to concentrate on her feet too much, she focused on her hands instead, and the tingle in her fingertips.

"Um, no," she said, choking a bit on a laugh; she wished she'd gotten the hang of the stealth and shadow magics that would allow her to move herself bodily, as the Sorceress had banished her to the coffin, as her sister had summoned her to Central City from Milltown.

"I don't know what you're thinking there, girl," said the other, "but I'm guessing its a bad idea."

DG snorted nervously, tripping a little, but staying on her feet... still on her feet, back and back. If she attacked one, the second would react in the slow moment in her brain that always followed the drain of magic. Outnumbered, she wanted Cain's steady aim, and _damn it_, Ambrose would be handy at the moment.

_Next time Glitch comes, next time he comes,_ DG thought, as her eyes darted to the two men following her, their grins leering at her as they thought her caught, cats toying with their prey before the kill. They thought her truly alone... she only needed to get to Cain and the others.

The first soldier – Grabby – stepped across the gap that separated them and seized her by the arm once again. "No!" she cried out, pushing at him and concentrating more power on the direction in which she sent him. As she saw him tossed away from her by a blast of white light, a gunshot rang through the air and she screamed as she found herself being thrown to the ground again.

There were shouts and footsteps as she fought against her attacker, until her hands struck against the fur-coated chest of Raw, and a long, shuddering breath escaped her as all the fight went out of her arms. She slumped into the ground and the Viewer clambered off of her, helping her to her feet.

She stared around, taking in the scene at hand; Grabby the Ex-Longcoat was dead, bleeding onto the ground, staining the ground red, melting the snow around the body. Her stomach churned as her eyes searched frantically around for the source of the bullet that had lodged into the man's chest... a powerful image met her eyes: Cain, lowering his arm and stalking toward her purposefully.

The second soldier... there'd been another soldier! Looking away from Cain, her head spun around, body following until she found him, surrendered to the rifle that was aimed at his chest by Jowan. Her heart still hammering, breath coming in fast spurts, she wasn't sure if she could dare look Cain in the face at that moment, but as Raw's gentle hand left her shoulder to be replaced by Cain's heavy one, she knew she had no other choice.

"Are you okay?" Wyatt asked her, and nervously, she nodded. With his right hand, he holstered his revolver; he leaned into DG, his face a stone mask though the slice of his eyes down her face was hot, turbulent. He placed his lips next to her ear, his voice a low hiss. The term '_pissed off_' took on a whole new meaning to DG. "What the hell did you think you were doin'?" he demanded, and pulled back once again. Staring straight up into the starkness of his blue eyes, she let her mouth hang open slightly as she searched her brain for an answer, knowing there wasn't one.

"I – "

"Cain!" came a rough shout from Raw, and DG's energy spiked again when her heart gave a jolt. She whirled around, to see the remaining enemy soldier had lurched forward at the old man, and was now grappling for control of Jowan's rifle; the old man kicked out hard, connecting his foot with the soldier's abdomen. When the soldier let go the rifle with a grunt, Jowan slammed the butte of the rifle into the man's nose, and then again on the back of his neck as the soldier bent over, hands flying to his face in pain. The quick succession of movements, smoothly executed, made DG's eyes widen in surprise, and then –

"_ENOUGH!"_

The shrill command cut through the air, and as DG's attention snapped to the direction of the shout, a flash of red light blinded her. Cain's familiar hand on her arm yanked her back behind him; her vision clearing, her eyes took in what was happening around her, so much so fast... the blast had been directed at the fight between the soldier and Jowan – the soldier now lay unconscious on the ground, and Jowan had been thrown back and was now struggling to his feet; somewhere in the confusion, the rifle had been dropped to the ground. Cain stood in front of her, Raw at her side, and –

The source of the shout, and the red light, was a beautiful, stately woman, glaring impatiently at the scene with hands on her hips. DG stared dumbly for a moment, as everything seemed to stop. She was aware that in front of her, Cain was still as a statue as he studied the woman and the situation; she was aware that beside her, Raw had snarled softly, a sound that sent shivers up her spine.

Behind the woman was a company of six soldiers, and it was immediately clear to DG that she and her friends were _screwed_. The line of soldiers blocking the road had raised their weapons, but the woman at their lead – the Lady Catt, DG knew without a doubt – held up a winter-white hand and called out an order to her men, before turning toward Cain and Raw. "Gentlemen!" she called jovially, as she held up her skirt to gingerly step over the body of one of her own soldiers. "All this bloodshed, is it really necessary?" She turned her sharp green eyes onto Cain, the only one still armed and a threat... until, that is, her eyes laid upon DG, slinking behind his shoulder. Eyes widening, Lady Catt stepped closer still.

"Well, well. The Outlander was right; she _does _go looking for trouble! Princess Dorothy Gale, daughter of Locasta the Lightless," she said in a disbelieving whisper. Anger began to rise, hot and tainted, in DG's blood, but she held her tongue. "Well," the Lady said, "where are my manners? Formalities must be observed, oh yes."

Lady Catt bowed her head, her long, free-flowing auburn hair obscuring most of her face, feathered through with snowflakes. When her chin raised once again, she looked at DG with green eyes that glittered wickedly, though her face remained impassive.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she said, in a falsely kind voice.

DG shook her head firmly. "You don't need to, I know who you are."

The Lady arched a beautifully-sculpted eyebrow. "Do you, now? How have you managed _that_, I wonder?"

"The royal military is aware of the movements of you and your men," Cain answered for DG, every word passing his lips clipped and hard. He gestured his chin toward the line of soldiers that blocked the road. "We have no quarrel with you, we're merely travellin' this road."

"The roads out this far are dangerous, Captain," the Lady said, her tone dropping an octave, becoming a soft purr as she offered Cain a hint of a smile. DG frowned; trying to ignore the fact that this new adversary was making eyes at her Tin Man, she realized that the Lady knew who Wyatt was, as well. Before she had much time to dwell on this, however, the Lady began to speak again. "Now, a little princess, wandering the Western mountains with a minimal escort. Where have I heard this story before?"

A few of her soldiers chuckled goonishly. DG rolled her eyes; she took her gaze off the Lady for the first time and glanced at Raw. He returned the gesture with eyes full of anxiety, wringing his hands in front of him. Reaching over, she wedged her hand between his, until she could entwine their fingers. She gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and her heart swelled with courage as Raw squeezed her fingers back.

Jowan had come over to them, still slightly out of breath from his struggle with the soldier. The four grouped together, as the Lady's eyes settled on DG, and never left her. Staring back, not daring to breathe, DG could feel the bite of the woman's magic in her harsh, green gaze. The unfamiliar power, DG could sense it almost palpably, something between them that she could feel through every part of her body.

"Tell your men to stand down," the Lady suggested calmly. "I refuse to speak with you when you're peeking around the Tin Man's arm like a child." The hint of derisive malice in her voice pricked fury deep within DG, but she kept herself stonily silent as she stepped out from behind Cain.

Glancing up into Wyatt's eyes as she brushed by him wasn't something easily done; meekly, she managed it. The cool, crystal blue of his eyes swept over her face as she nodded quietly. Unsure of what to say, she only offered him a weak smile, reassurance that she wasn't about to do something stupid, when no words could have convinced him otherwise. There was unhappiness etched into every inch of his weathered face, the lines that appeared on his brow as he frowned.

Standing in front of her friends now, facing down the Lady Catt, DG stared hard and gathered what tenacity she knew she possessed. "What do you want?" she asked, a strange sense of foreboding permeating the words. Really, there was no point in being optimistic. This type of situation never ended well for her...

The Lady flipped her hair over her shoulder, smiling at DG as if this were the every-day type of conversation she was used to having. "Its quite funny you should ask that," she said, her nastily-sweet smile near dripping with her arrogance. "As what I wanted, very much, was to... _meet_ you." The slight hesitation in her word choice made DG's confidence falter; she wanted nothing more than to look back and to see the blue eyes she could _feel_ boring into her back. No, she couldn't allow it of herself... she could do this without constant reassurance from Cain, his place at her back would have to be enough.

The Lady continued speaking, drawing DG's thoughts away from Cain. "I was beginning to think a visit to Central City was going to be in order but instead... this is an amazing coincidence. Simply amazing! The stupidity of these Gales will never cease to... well, never mind that."

"All right then," DG said cautiously, "we've met. Leave us in peace."

"Not just yet," the Lady said slowly, as she crossed the gap that separated her from the princess. She raised a hand to touch DG's face with her pale, slender fingers; DG shied from the touch, and the Lady frowned impatiently. "Would you sit still, child? I'm not about to suck your soul out."

DG pursed her lips together; when Lady Catt took DG's chin in her hand, the princess couldn't help but flinch, the woman's fingertips were bare, and cold. DG allowed her head to be turned from side to side as the Lady studied her face, her frown deepening with every moment that passed.

"Unbelievable! The similarities are striking, but the difference is obvious, quite plainly. Not the prettiest, are you?" she asked appraisingly. DG scowled, and tried to jerk her head away from Lady Catt, while her eyes scrutinized every inch of DG's face. "Freckles. Your nose is too round. When was the last time you saw a hairbrush, child? But... I do declare, you have the most startling blue eyes. Beautiful eyes. Its the biggest difference."

DG was uncertain of what to say, as the woman let go of her face and stepped away again. _What similarities, what differences?, _she wanted to ask, but instead... "We don't want any trouble," was all she was able to manage, her voice cracking a little at the nervousness of what had just taken place – why had the woman taken such an interest in her face?

Behind her, Cain made a subtle clearing of his throat, the softest noise imaginable. The sky was growing darker as the clouds rolled in, as the snow began to swirl faster.

"No trouble," Lady Catt laughed. "Of course not. You've killed two of my men, and you don't want any trouble." As she was speaking these words, there was a low, choking groan from the soldier who'd fought with Jowan over the rifle, as he slowly pulled himself onto his knees. The Lady watched the man with a disgusted snort, before turning back to DG; she ignored the soldier as he swaggered to his feet, wheezing and coughing up blood. "All right, you've killed _one_ of my men. Unacceptable! They might be used soldiers, but they are _my _used soldiers, and no one mistreats my things."

DG's eyes widened, stumbling backward a step as the conversation – and the entire situation – to a dire, and drastic, turn. "The Princess returns to the Forest with us," Lady Catt said, her words echoing chillingly in DG's head.

"_What_?Why?" DG shouted immediately, the words escaping her mouth without thought. Cain's hand closed around her arm once again, shielding her behind him. All this time, he hadn't drawn his revolver, but her eyes went down to see his fingers twitching over his holster.

The Lady ignored DG's desperate exclamation. She took a long, surveying look of the three men that stood at DG's back. "The Viewer, as well," she said to her men, nodding at Raw. "He might come in useful. Kill the others."

The six soldiers who had stood behind the Lady with their weapons raised began their advance. Two broke away from the group and walked with fierce intent toward her. Someone – of who, she couldn't be sure, but the hands had been friendly – grabbed her from behind and shoved her out of the way, off the side of the road and down the short embankment into the trees. There were shouts, and gunshots, and she curled up defensively as a heavy body landed near her. A peek under her arm showed her the unfamiliar enemy uniform, and her heart near collapsed with relief.

Pushing herself to her hands and knees, she had barely made it to her feet before she was being leapt upon again. Tackled for the second time, her vision obscured by the fur of Raw's vest as he dragged her a few feet through the trees away from the fighting soldiers. Two of the Lady's soldiers – _used_ soldiers – were stalking toward them, but DG's eyes barely registered them coming as all of her focus was solely on finding Cain in the fray of fighting bodies on the road. She couldn't see him, in the gathering dark and the falling snow, the confusion of bodies and shouts, bright flashes of red light, and a falcon's cry...

_Falcon?_

"Find the girl!" Lady Catt shouted, unseen by DG as her voice rang out through the snowy, wooded twilight. There was a another gunshot, followed by a blast of red-tinted energy. The agonized shout that followed was distinctly Cain, the gruff bark of pain and no other sound after made DG's blood run cold. She bolted to her feet, only to be dragged down by Raw again.

"Stay put," he growled at her, and DG turned to him with wide eyes; she'd never known her gentle friend to speak so angrily at her. Raw kept his hands steadfast on her shoulders, forcing her to crouch. When she fought against him, his firmly planted hands gave a comforting squeeze, reminding her of the courage he'd shared with her long, long minutes before. Hidden in the under-brush, it would only be a matter of time before they were discovered. Her heart and breath had frozen as she searched frantically for signs that Wyatt had returned to his feet. Calling out would only reveal her location; using her magic defensively would result in the same.

As if reading her thoughts, Raw gave her a small push. "Must get back to horses," he whispered, as he started to slink back, away from the road; he was preparing them to cut across the woods to the camp-site.

"I'm _not_ leaving," she said stubbornly, listening as the fighting continued – how could it be continuing? Six against two, and she hadn't heard the shouts of either Wyatt or the old man for, well, too many seconds for her liking. "Wait," she said, holding up a hand for Raw, and he stopped tugging on her arm. "Something else is –"

Her words were cut short as the echoing _crack_ of bone resounded close to her; snapping her attention back to the road, she barely had time to brace herself as a soldier wearing the Lady's uniform was thrown with great force toward where she and Raw hid. A shield of white light flared up, subconsciously risen by DG as she threw her arms up to protect herself from the falling body. The surprise flash of the spell dazed both her eyes and Raw's; instinctively, she jumped to her feet, not wanting to be surprised again.

The gunshots had stopped, but the shouts had not, men still yelled and called out orders, so many voices, too many. Damn it, she wasn't going to sit still any more – chances were, she wouldn't even be noticed. She prepared to launch herself headlong into the scramble of bodies to find Wyatt, magic tingling now in her fingertips, but... Instead, she found herself being overshadowed by a large, hulking body, the one that had fought and killed the Lady's soldier, and thrown him to the side like a ragdoll. He was blocking her forward progress, and he was well aware of it. She could not see his face, and she backed herself against a tree, shrinking away from him.

"I found her, sir!" the huge stranger called out, and a gravelly chuckle escaped him. "Here she is!"

* * *

_Author's Note II: The story is moving along nicely, yes? I know this chapter held a lot of action... there will be some more exposition and some fluff (and smut *cough* to make up for it in the next **few** chapters, no promises about right away. Plot, and all that, you know... reviews are love - and let me tell you, I could sure use some love._

**Happy Canada Day!**


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Five**

Hass had found help. He'd also, quite effectively, thrown them out of the frying pan and into the fire. However, Wyatt Cain wasn't about to fight against the band of Outlanders that had come to their aid, not once the Commander's men had sent the Lady and what was left of her contingent limping back to the Black Forest, licking their wounds.

The company of the Commander's men numbered twelve, and was comprised of both rugged Outlanders, and human soldiers. Without much in the way of proper negotiation or agreement, the princess was seized by gunpoint, and her four travel companions – himself, Raw, Jowan, and and the now-shifted Corporal Hass – were marched toward what had been, all along, their intended destination.

They travelled through the still, snowy night, further and further up into the mountains; the terrain was rough, and the going was slow, but the Outlanders at the forefront were determined to press on up the mountainside to outrun the worst of the storm. Trudging through the ever-deepening snow exhausted the five 'prisoners', who'd been on the road since before the dawn had broken. Finally, near morning, twenty-four hours after they'd left the shores of Lake Lillay, their hands stiff from cold, their feet soaked and numb, the group stopped at a vertical fissure that cracked open a sheer, high rock-face.

Until that time, the Outlander heading the group – barely distinguishable by Cain from the rest of his counterparts – had ordered his men to keep the five prisoners separated. The leader had taken the charge of the princess upon himself. With the barrel of a shotgun pointed at the back of his neck, Cain had followed a begrudging fifteen feet behind, Raw closer to DG than he. Now, however, he was able to get next to DG as the Commander's men began to prepare to shuttle their captives into the narrow space.

"You doin' all right?" he asked her, keeping his voice incredibly low so as not to draw attention to them. DG, glancing up at him with wide blue eyes, said nothing, only nodded. Sighing heavily, Cain reached out to put a hand on her neck – over her hair, his hands too cold for him to think about touching her skin – and tried his best to look convincing. "We're safer now than we were back there, before," he told her, and once again, she nodded. Frowning, he leaned in a little closer to her. "Talk to me, Kiddo, would ya?"

Her voice shivered as she did what he asked. "I'm cold," she complained softly; he gave her a small smile, as they were all cold. "How far do you think we've gone?" she asked.

Cain looked around quickly; the first of the Commander's group of soldiers had begun to enter the tunnel. "I couldn't rightly tell you," he muttered softly, and she looked up at him with a perk of unhappiness in her brow. "My best guess is there's another two hours or so to go. We've gotta be near the border by now."

"You're right there, Captain," Old Jowan spoke up from behind him, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "But we cross the border, out of the O.Z. The barracks lays underground, just beyond the Queen's lands."

A slight touch at his finger made Cain jolt, but as he turned around, it was to DG's blue eyes; her fingers had brushed his as she'd tried to take his hand. Exhaling softly, Cain wrapped an arm around her, doing her one better than she'd hoped for. He felt her small body relax into him, and a sigh of relief, of honest and utter trust escaped her. It was only moments later, however, that they were pulling apart and being pushed and shoved into the tunnel that led deeper into the mountainside.

With DG directly in front of him, and Raw directly behind, Cain did his best to traverse the narrow, rocky path without tripping; his broad shoulders brushed the rock walls if he wasn't careful, and ahead of him, the Outlanders were forced to walk slightly sideways in the tight confines. Closed-in spaces didn't bother Cain much – after all the time in the suit, he'd learned to cope – although they did bring back a slew of painful memories. His thoughts skipped precariously through images of Adora, of his son as a young boy, of Zero and the recorded events that had replayed day in and day out at the cabin; fifteen minutes of horror committed to memory, his last visions of his Adora... until he'd come across the recording of her murder. His black thoughts accompanied him through the darkness, unaffected by the presence of DG, close enough to touch.

The cavern was filled with the sounds of their scraping footsteps, of their laboured breathing, echoing so loud that talking would have been impossible. In silence, they walked; if there was a singular blessing about entering the small, dark tunnel, it was that the snowstorm had been left behind. Long, long minutes passed, and soon an hour had melted away; the winter-cold air had grown slightly warmer; the tunnel was widening, and the gradual decline of the ground beneath their feet became a sharper slope. When finally they began to approach a light that signalled the end of the tunnel, DG hesitated in front of Cain, and he caught up to her in less than two strides. Putting one hand on her waist, he guided her forward – there were guards behind them that would notice she'd stopped, and Gods, he didn't want any trouble then. For almost ten hours, the Commander's soldiers had marched them mercilessly. For the life of him, Wyatt Cain just wanted to reach _somewhere_ and rest – even if it meant a prison cell.

It was then that the reality of being separated from DG settled down heavily upon his shoulders. Though the girl he led in his arms was brave, and stubborn, she wasn't without fear, and he knew she would react strongly, and negatively, to being alone. He clenched his jaw, wanting to warn her but not to frighten or insult her. Settling on plain vague, he retracted his arm from around her, and said, "You gonna be all right by yourself, Kiddo?"

Her appreciative smile froze in place as she cocked her head, considering what he'd just said. As she hurried to keep up with him, realization dawned slowly in her eyes, and her smile faltered. "I – yeah... yeah, I'll be fine," she reassured him as best she could, although he could read it as clear as day on her face, that tiny spark of panic that still held sway over her, that little-girl urge to run and hide from what scared her. "But, Cain, I – "

Whatever she was, though, he never found out. Her jaw snapped shut as he reached out to grab her, to bring her to an abrupt halt before they collided with the soldiers who had been walking ahead of them. The tunnel, it seemed, had come to its end. A set of heavy, steel doors dominated the rock-face; the doors themselves were open, and a small group of three men stood waiting in the gaping maw. The interior of the barracks visible beyond seemed eerily familiar to one Cain, DG, and Hass had seen before.

Cain was left with no doubt in his mind as to the authoritative stance of the Outlander at the head of the small, awaiting group. After getting a good look, however, at the amused smirk on the Commander's face, Cain lowered his head and kept his eyes down. DG was hovering near his side, the sleeve of her wool jacket brushing the wet leather of his duster, and he could feel Raw near his back, the Viewer's breath coming in fast, nervous spurts.

"Your Highness!" boomed the Commander, his jovial tone provoking immediate suspicion in Cain. At the Outlander's recognition of DG, Cain raised his eyes, watching the scene now, keeping his gaze on, and only on, DG. She was shivering under her soaked clothes, but she kept her chin raised. "What an unexpected pleasure."

DG's voice was surprisingly steady for the trembling of her body. "Yeah, um, sorry to drop in on you," she said. As the words left her mouth, the soldiers who had led them down into the ground stood aside as the Commander moved down the metal stairs. He was agile despite his hulking size, and the stairs clanged under his weight. He made straight for the princess and DG backed up a few steps at his quick advance, until she'd bumped into Cain. Instinctively, Cain's hands flew up to her arms to steady her, a gesture, he noted with dissatisfaction, that caused the Commander's eyebrow to perk curiously. The Outlander's dark eyes – almost black – took in the sight of the ex-Tin Man's hands on the princess's arms.

The Commander cleared his throat, before returning his penetrating stare back to DG. She, in turn, stared up defiantly, despite the fact the Outlander towered over her by a rough fifteen or so inches. Cain let his hands fall, and DG stepped forward. The Commander stayed planted, feet shoulder-width apart, back straight, in perfect military posture.

"You've done more than drop in on me, Your Highness," the Commander said, his tone changed from his first greeting. With every word bitten out through clenched teeth, his face became harder. DG, falling into a familiar routine after her initial hesitation, glared up at him expectantly. "You've now drawn my men and I into your war. A grievous mistake, Princess." Growling out a command to his men, he stepped back from DG. "Take the princess and find her suitable quarters."

DG's head whirled around, to look back at Cain. Though he tried his best to keep his face impassive, he nodded at her; she'd be fine, and he knew it... sometimes, however, he was unsure if _she_ knew it. Whatever the impact his slight reassurance had on her, it seemed to be enough. Though she yanked her arms away from the soldier that tried to grab her, she allowed herself to be led away. When she'd disappeared farther into the barracks, around a corner and out of sight, Cain heard a soft growl from Raw, and he frowned.

_Yeah, that's just about the way I feel too, Raw, _he thought.

"Take the princess's men to the detainment area," the Commander told one of his soldiers, the one who'd held his weapon aimed at the back of Cain's neck for most of the journey from their encounter with the Lady Catt. "I want the guard on the level doubled." Cain smirked then, wondering if the Commander had any idea that the man who had helped Queen Locasta's soldiers escape his underground complex the annual before was in fact the one that had led Cain and DG back, to stand here now. But as Cain was shoved hard between the shoulder blades, toward the open, twelve-foot clearance doors that led into the barracks, the Commander held up a hand for the soldier at Cain's back to stop.

Now, Wyatt Cain wasn't used to looking up to people, but the Outlander dwarfed him. With a steady stance, Cain didn't meet the Commander's eyes, though he could feel himself the subject of great scrutiny. Swaying slightly on his feet as he waited, radiating impatience, Cain counted off the seconds until the Commander spoke.

"Old Man!" the Commander barked; Jowan, who'd been quietly waiting for his orders, came forward, and stood beside Cain. With his back straight, the two human men were within inches in their height, but the old caretaker let his head fall back slightly, so that he might look his superior in the eye. "Who is this man?" the Commander asked with the arrogance of a man who already knew the answer.

Jowan looked at Cain as if he'd just noticed him. Cain rolled his eyes, and kept silent. "This, my Lord? This is – " And here, the old man paused to knock Cain's hat to the floor. He put his hand directly on the back of Cain's skull and bent his head forward in a bow. With a low growl, Cain allowed the forced gesture; after only brief seconds, he jerked his head back up, this time meeting the Commander's eyes, not trying to mask the fierce dislike he felt. "– Wyatt Cain. He is the personal guard of Her Highness, and um –" Jowan cleared his throat uncomfortably. "He is the... _intended_ of the young princess."

The Commander raised a brow, giving Cain a knowing smile. "Intended, you say? Lover, then." He chuckled low. "This is the man who knows if she tastes as sweet as she looks."

Unwilling to give the Outlander any satisfaction, Cain kept his stony silence. Frowning at Cain's resistance to his goading, the Commander backed down. Speaking to the soldier behind Cain, he said, "I want to be notified when the princess goes to him. Old Man, you follow me." With a nasty grin, the Commander nodded politely at Cain, before turning and stalking away. Jowan, before following after the Commander, shot Cain a look of warning.

"Be careful, Captain," he said, before bending and picking up Cain's hat from where he'd knocked it to the floor. Brushing it off, he handed it back to Cain. He turned and walked away, and as Cain watched after him, a shiver went through him, more likely caused by his soaked clothes and his numb body than by the odd sense of more trouble on his horizon. Before he had too much time to focus on this, however, he was being escorted roughly along with Hass and Raw to a lower level, where bright lights lit an unadorned hallway. Separated, they were locked in empty cells that seemed to have once served as slave quarters. Unceremoniously shoved in head-first, Cain was unaware of where, exactly, the corporal and Raw were led. He assumed, perhaps a little too optimistically, that it would be nearby; thinking, hopefully, that it would be on the same block.

A small, slatted window was set in the heavy wooden door, and it was with this slice of light coming in from the hallway that Cain navigated the small cell. There was a kerosene lamp on the table, but there were no matches – there had been matches in his pack, but he had no idea what had happened to his belongings, or to his horse.

Grumbling to himself, Cain began to peel off his wet layers. His shirt was relatively dry, so he rolled up his damp sleeves before slinging his vest over the back of the only chair, a rickety wooden thing that didn't look like it would hold his weight. He tossed the water-logged duster on top of the vest, knowing that he would spend more than enough time in this dark, tiny space for his things to dry. His pants were soaked past his knees, but he wasn't about to take them off without a change of clothes. The pants would just have to dry while he wore them.

The cot crammed into the corner of the cell was a bare mattress on a creaking metal frame. He sat down on it, removing his boots and socks, and stared at the square of light created by the small window on the door. He could hear the shuffling of the guards who were situating themselves outside his cell.

"_I want the guard on that level doubled,"_ the Commander had said.

Cain exhaled heavily, looking around the dark cell that he could almost, but not quite, make out. As his body finally began to settle, he could feel a dull ache beginning in his muscles, a shaking inside that seemed to start from his very marrow. His heart was pounding and his blood rushing through him; he needed to calm down, and he needed to sleep. There was no telling what was to come in the next few hours – or days, as he guessed... they wouldn't be leaving until the storm had let up and they could travel out of the mountains on foot.

Once, of course, DG was able to find whatever or whoever was supposed to help her sneak into the Longcoat base at the center of the Black Forest.

He tried not to concentrate on how much trouble they were in, or how he didn't quite know what the next step was going to be. The Commander, in his insight, had labelled one truth very clearly: sometime in the near future, DG would be seeking Cain out.

And it was with this unwavering truth calming his firing nerves that Cain was able to close his eyes, and attempt to sleep.

* * *

***

* * *

Things were changing rapidly in the underground barracks. Unbeknownst to Cain and his friends, they'd been led underneath the Western mountains, and had almost reached the desert beyond. Crossing the border had put them in the no-man's land that rested between the O.Z. and the rest of the world.

As Cain and his two men were being led down deeper still into the ground to the detention cells, and DG was being led to more comfortable quarters against her will, The Commander walked down a separate hallway, followed in silence by a small group of soldiers and behind them, the old caretaker, Jowan.

"Send a messenger on," the Commander ordered of the soldier directly behind him. "Tell the border guard we shall be returning over the desert in a few days. Do _not_ specify a reason."

The soldier nodded and broke off from the group, heading back in the direction from which they'd come.

When the group had reached the Commander's offices, the remaining soldiers were dismissed. The old man, however, followed after the Commander and closed the door behind him.

"Why did you bring the princess here, Old Man?" The Commander asked, getting straight to his point. But, without giving Jowan even a moment to answer, he continued on. "You met with the scout not three days ago in Central City, am I correct?"

Jowan cleared his throat, and nodded. "That you would be, Sir."

The Commander studied the old human that stood before him. He hadn't seen Jowan since he'd sent him to keep an eye on the Gales, and that had been almost an annual before. In that time, there seemed to be a change, as if the annual in the Zone had invigorated the old man.

"You reported to the scout the Princess Royal was in _Finaqua_." The Commander raised a curious brow as he settled himself down into his desk chair.

"Yes, well," Jowan said, "that was the general consensus about the palace as to the young princess's whereabouts."

"Court gossip was wrong, then?" the Commander asked with a self-satisfied smile.

"DG and the captain gave everyone the slip," Jowan told his commander with a bit of a smile himself. "They snuck back into Central City like criminals to ask me for my help in finding you."

That grabbed the Commander's interest. "Oh, really? Why would the little Slipper want to seek me out?"

"Apparently she wants a formal negotiation to take place," Jowan said, not mentioning anything about the Emerald, or what he knew of it from his own research. The Commander would know well enough DG's intentions. News of the Outlands had come to Jowan from the scout, Zero, as they'd met to discuss the goings-on of the Gale princesses. Not all that long ago, Zero had stated rumours of the Commander's mind still being consumed by his obsession with the Emerald, and his failed attempt to obtain it.

And surely enough – "A formal negotiation?" The Commander leaned back in his chair as the words left his mouth, and for the briefest moment, it almost seemed as if the Outlander were daydreaming. Snapping out of it quickly, however, as he noticed the old man watching him, the Commander stood. He put his fists on the desks, and leaned toward Jowan.

"And what of the events that took place in the mountains? Your run in with the Lady Catt was most unlucky," the Commander commented casually, but the glint in his eyes was menacing.

Jowan, quite used to Outlander tactics after a lifetime of slaving underneath of them, was unaffected and didn't falter. "The _run-in_ with the Lady would not have happened, Sir, had the girl not wandered off."

The Commander gave a gravelly chuckle. "So that's how it happened, then?"

Jowan's only response was to roll his eyes.

"Well," the Commander said, pushing away from the desk, and coming around it. "The girl is going to need a shadow while she's here, I don't want her unattended for even a minute." The Commander had learned his lesson about letting the girl wander freely. A horrible thought occurred to him, and it caused him to smile. "Shall I set Zero to the task?" he asked the old man.

Jowan looked for a moment like he was considering it, but then shook his head. "No, I don't think so, Sir. There's no reason to torment the poor child while she's here."

The Commander found himself agreeing to this, surprising himself with just that. "I want to meet with the princess this evening once she's rested. There are other things that need to be taken care of at the moment," he said. His men had recovered one of the Lady Catt's injured soldiers; someone had beaten the man quite badly, but he was going to live to see another day – and he'd talk if he ever wanted to return to the surface.

* * *

***

* * *

After everything, DG wouldn't remember, later on, the maze of passages and stairwells that led, eventually, to a room and a bed, nor would she remember shakily fighting her way out of her wet clothes and collapsing into the bed in her underwear. There would be a fragmented memory of dissolving into tears before being claimed by sleep, not from sadness or fear, but from relief.

What she would remember, and vividly, were her dreams. Her sleep was deep, impenetrable; her dreams were familiar, images seen before of a black-and-white world, memories not her own, of an ancestress long dead. Of corridors similar, but different; of rooms almost the same. Dorothy Gale, stumbling down a shaft into an underground hell. Her imprisonment, the eventual favour she found with the leader of the Outlanders, and her binding with the Emerald. It was this pain, the knife-blade sharp memories of the mark of the Emerald burning into her skin that startled DG out of her dreams, and into wakefulness.

She was on a bed, soft and warm, and she was comfortable. She knew she was alone, and she swallowed back the worry of what could have happened to the others – to Raw, to Cain – and instead tried to focus on worrying about herself. She knew, somehow, that they were as safe as she was – but exactly what that was saying, she wasn't sure yet.

At the moment, she didn't care about Emeralds, or dreams of Papay fields, or warnings of dark eyes. Her problem wasn't the strange, beautiful face that kept appearing in her mirrors.

The darkness around her was her most immediate problem, and it was this she chose to deal with first.

It was almost second nature now to focus her energy and hold her palm out, facing upward; from her skin was born a bright, tiny wisp of light. The brilliant flash in the room at its sudden appearance shocked her eyes, and she shielded them with her forearm. Blinking away the stars that danced across her vision, DG looked around at the tiny room bathed in the pale glow cast by the light, as it floated still and patient, waiting for her order.

Glad for its company, DG got up off the bed, steadying her wobbly legs with one hand on the metal frame; yanking a blanket off the bed, she wrapped it around herself. The light ambled behind her as she crossed the room to the open doorway, which led into a closet-sized bathroom. Merely perfunctory, there was no door or tub; the mirror above the sink basin was cracked, and hanging crooked.

On the wall opposite the bathroom was the door that led, presumably, to the world outside the small room. The door itself was made of rough wood, fortified with thick iron bands. When she tried the handle, she found it locked. With a surge of annoyance, she tried her magic on it, but the lock held securely. With an unladylike curse, she slammed her fist on the wood; frustration and fear were beginning to rise in her, and she turned to lean her back against the door, to catch her breath and blink back the threatening tears.

Walking away from the door with her head in her hands, elbows pinning the blanket to her body, she tried to gather her thoughts enough to make sense of her situation. As she plopped back down on the bed, she tried to concentrate on her options. She was getting ahead of herself – she couldn't very well, after all, storm out of this room with a blanket wrapped over her bra and panties.

_Start thinking straight, DG, or you're not going to get anywhere,_ she chastised herself.

Taking things slower now, she tried her very hardest to formulate a plan of attack. Her mind, however, rebelled, and skipped around aimlessly. Cain... no, clothes, _then_ Cain... no clothes, then a way out, and _then... _Cain, and Raw. And Hass. The Commander...

Her stomach growled a loud complaint, putting in its two cents. She didn't know what the time was, but she was certain that it had been well over a day since she'd eaten anything. Frowning, DG slumped back onto the bed. Her brain just wasn't ready for this yet.

Finally, she got a bit of a hold on herself. Her clothes had disappeared from wherever she'd left them, but there were clean, dry dresses folded into the bureau that was tucked into a tight corner of her room. The linen tea-dress she pulled down over her head smelled musty, and clung to the curves she usually tried to hide, but she couldn't quite care.

_Oh, my kingdom for some sweatpants, and a hoodie. _The thought made her smile.

She found a pair of knit stockings, pulling them up to find that they went well past her knees. Her sneakers were still completely soaked, and she wrinkled her nose at them as she placed them upside down in the bathroom sink to dry better.

She found a lamp and lit it with her magic, before she banished her small light companion, who disappeared with little to-do or complaint. The flame within the lamp's glass burned bright and constant on the wick, and she set it on the bureau, looking around the room she'd been led to, properly for the first time. Aside from the bed and the dresser, an old chair of carved wood sat in one corner, its cushion faded and worn. Over the back of it, someone had hung up her wool coat to dry; there was no doubt that her own clothes had been picked up and taken away by someone who'd come into the room while she slept – the Commander's slaves, she could only assume.

Impatiently, she stalked about the room, shaking her hands out as she did so. She worked up the courage to try the handle again, to use her magic in just the right way to make the lock release, but none of it worked. Cursing loudly, she shook the handle angrily. "Let me out!" she demanded, and then placed her ear to the door.

There was a definite sound of muffled footsteps on the other side of the door. A guard?

A key turned in the lock; DG hopped back from the door in surprise, magic sparking in her very blood in ready defence. However, when the door opened to reveal Jowan, entering her room with a tray of food, she fell back, disappointed. The door was closed behind him, and locked from the outside.

Definitely a guard.

The old man was offering her a smile as he crossed the room to place the tray on the small table in the corner. "You slept long, Princess," he said offhandedly, straightening again to brush his hands together. "There, uh... there is a small meal, here. I'm to inform you, however, that you're expected to meet with the Commander later tonight."

"Tonight?" DG asked. "How long did I sleep?"

Jowan looked at her sympathetically. "We arrived near five A.M., its now almost dark above ground. You slept almost twelve hours, Your Highness."

DG waved a hand at him, and snapped, "Please, don't. Just don't. None of that, not right now."

Jowan looked uncomfortably caught. "My apologies." The sentence fell anticlimactically, as she awaited add-on of her title that didn't come.

Breathing a sigh of relief at that, DG looked up at the old man, ignoring the tray of food that he'd brought. His eyes were dark-rimmed with exhaustion, and there was a slowness to his movements that she'd never observed before, and a slump to his shoulders that she was sure was not intentional.

"Have they let you rest yet?" she asked him quietly.

Jowan gave her a weary smile. "Not yet, Miss, but he can't work me forever."

DG somehow doubted that. "You're not returning with us when we leave, are you?" she asked.

"No, I won't," he told her, and there wasn't any regret in his voice. In fact, he seemed completely all right with this fact. "I'll return to the Outlands with the Commander when he goes. His scheduled departure has, however, been postponed until your business with him is finished." Almost as if to clarify to her his agreement with his conditions, he winked at her.

"The Commander knows I didn't bring him the Emerald, doesn't he?" DG asked, not specifically to Jowan.

The old man, however, spoke up. "He is aware you do not have the Emerald," he said. "I daresay that he's going to want to speak with you on the subject. He is under the impression that you've come for formal negotiations concerning the stone."

DG laughed out-loud, a short and nervous sound. "I wonder who put that idea in his head."

"Oh, I do wonder," Jowan said sheepishly, though his face read amusement. "You will have your chance to speak with the Commander on a great number of things, Child, don't worry. You and your men are stuck here until the storm passes, and it seems to have taken a liking to these mountains. It might be a few days yet before you can venture out again."

DG looked up at the ceiling above her head, absently wondering just how far underground she was, and knowing that Cain and the others would be at least a level or two below her. "Where are they, Jowan?" she asked him, continuing her thoughts aloud.

"'They'? ...Oh. Oh, yes. They'll be down on the fourth level, I imagine. I don't know where, exactly."

DG's lips curved into a tiny smile. "Keeping you away from there, are they?"

Jowan cleared his throat, his worn old face staying emotionless. "One of the higher-ups might be under the impression that odd things tend to happen when I'm around," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. His eyes met with hers, and he studied her for a moment; she could tell that there were words on the tip of his tongue, and he was fighting with his conscience on whether or not to release them to her. Finally, he shook his head, and looked away from her. "If you're wanting to go looking for your men, you're free to move about the complex, as before... consider yourself warned, however, that you're going to be watched, and carefully. The Commander has plans to assign you an escort."

DG shook her head. "I don't need one of the Commander's men."

"You'll get one whether you like it or not, Princess," Jowan said, and the slip of her title off his tongue seemed to put an end to his willingness to speak. With the tiniest of regretful smiles, and a small bow of his head, the caretaker knocked firmly on the heavy door, which was opened for him. Once it had shut behind him, it was locked.

DG snorted unhappily. _Free to move about the complex, huh? Damn it!_

What her mother or Azkadellia would say about her language choices, she didn't know, but DG was glad they couldn't hear her thoughts. She knew that, even if she attempted to send her thoughts to her mother or sister, both were too far for her to reach. She could reach out to the others, to Cain or to Hass, but what good would it do, as they couldn't respond in kind?

_God damn it_, she missed her mother's soft, kind voice; she missed Azkadellia's dark, expressive eyes. Almost in tears over it, DG wandered over to the tray the old man had brought, and enjoyed the cold toast as much as she might have a piece of cardboard. The tea was luke-warm – tea, it had been almost a week since she'd managed to drink down the bitter fennel-seed tea, meant to act as birth control; it had come from a Central City pharmacy, under a fake name concocted by Azkadellia. The tea-bags, untouched since... Milltown?... were wrapped in tissue paper and tucked away at the bottom of her pack... and now only the Gods on this side would know where _that_ was. Buried in snow at the side of a back-road of the Western province, maybe forever.

Feeling lonelier than ever, and wanting nothing more than to see another familiar face, DG threw down the last crust of her toast onto the plate, put out the lamp, and marched determinedly toward the door. As her hand touched the door-handle, the glow of her magical exertion shimmered in the dark; with one hard twist, the doorknob turned.

Triumphant, DG laughed, and pulled the door open, prepared for a confrontation with the guard the Commander had assigned... only –

There was no one there.

Where had the guard at the door gone? She looked around, expecting someone to come around the corner. She'd made enough of a racket trying to get the door open. Sighing, she left the door wide open; whoever the guard was, he would just have to come looking for her.

Seconds later, she summoned a wisp. With thoughts of Raw, Cain, and even the corporal dominating her mind, she whispered to it, "Take me to my friends, please."

* * *

_Author's Note: Outline says we're spending a few chapters at this location. Anyone who has been missing Jeb will see him next chapter (Finally, I know, sorry). Also, what's this? You've noticed DG dropped her guard already and is heading to Cain's cell alone? Yeah, I thought you'd notice. Reviews are always great for the Muse's inspiration. Just ask her. ;)_


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

_Author's Note: Longest chapter yet. Seriously, I can't even... guh, just read and enjoy._

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**Chapter Twenty Six**

The wisp was less reliable than usual, and DG was certain her nerves had something to do with it.

This didn't deter her from following after the little light companion faithfully until she was sure it was either drunk or lost. She'd run into two dead-ends, a locked door, and too many dark, unused hallways to count. And this was just the first level.

DG's feet were beginning to grow a little sore in the absence of her shoes when she finally found the way down to the next level. The metal stairs lined a narrow well, and looking down made her a little dizzy. Her wisp took a dive off the railing, and waited patiently as she descended the stairs on foot. The access door with an emboldened black '4' on it was unlocked, but _heavy_.

As soon as she had opened the door, the wisp was off like a shot, and DG was running to keep up. A few twists and turns later, she was breathlessly catching up, and extinguishing the light when she felt that she could figure the rest out on her own. Alone now, she crept along, following the voices she heard coming from an adjacent corridor.

When she rounded the corner, she saw two guards standing at a single door. When she approached them purposefully, one of them nodded in greeting to her.

"Your Highness."

DG frowned. She didn't quite know what she was going to do... but when had she _ever_?

"Must be guarding someone pretty important," she said, trying to be nonchalant, though she was sure she came off as a curious child. There was a small, barred window set in the guarded door, and she leaned up slightly on her toes, trying to see into the cell. The guard who'd spoken stepped in front of the window and DG fell back, disappointed. "Two guards for _one _prisoner, huh? Is this high security?"

The second guard, the one that had remained stationary, rolled his eyes.

_Ha!_ DG thought triumphantly. _It must be Raw in this room._

"A princess and a Viewer aren't going to cause you much trouble," she told them, while repressing thoughts of her escape with Raw from the Sorceress' Tower – _"Ow! That could bust a zipper!" – _to stop herself from laughing. "Could I go in and see my friend, please?"

When the guard shook his head, she did her best not to look indignant. She opened her mouth to speak, but heavy approaching footsteps cut the words off as she turned around.

Now... life in the O.Z. was every day desensitizing her to its oddities and twists of fate, but not much would have prepared DG for the sight of her sister's former general walking towards her. Clad now in the Commander's uniform, Zero wore his smugness with authority as he stalked toward her, a faint hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"End of the Road, Princess," he said, a certain amount of amusement in his voice. "The Commander requests your presence in his quarters before you make it any farther down that hallway." The coldness of his tone spoke plainly his opinion of those contained on this level – Wyatt Cain in particular, she knew.

Her surprise at his sudden, unexplained arrival had kept her tongue tied up in a knot, but when he reached out to put a hand on her arm, she was amazed at how fast her hands and her magic reacted. She held up her hand and shoved him away, the force of her Light pressing into the center of his chest pushing him backward. Stalking after him angrily, she had the conscious thought of shoving at him again before the hallway guards were on her, pinning her arms to her sides.

Instantly, she deflated. How her brain was able to think logically through the red curtain of rage, she wasn't exactly sure; perhaps it was a bit of that _common sense_ Cain was so adamant she had in her somewhere. _Don't hurt anyone! You're not here to fight,_ a tiny voice inside reminded her. Resigning to _herself_, she fell back into the vice-grip of the soldier who held her.

Taking a deep breath, she set her shoulders as best as she knew how. "You will _not_ address me as '_Princess_'," she near-whispered, channelling the regal bearing of her sister, glad she'd paid attention to Az's every gesture and nuance; it had always been better that than listening to what was being discussed around the table.

Perhaps it was good that Zero recognized a bit of Azkadellia in DG, because after a long moment of consideration, he backed down. Speaking directly to the guard that held the princess, he ordered her to be _escorted_ upstairs.

DG barely caught sight of Raw's face in the barred window before she was being roughly manhandled back the way she had come. He gave her an encouraging smile and a nod, but his sad eyes belied the stretching of his lips. He reminded her, with just that barest glance, that she'd had a purpose when she'd wandered down to the fourth level, and that the opportunity was all but squandered.

_Not true, _said the more optimistic part of herself. It was lucky that Zero had revealed himself to her; while he didn't exactly pose a threat, not while he wore the Commander's uniform, his presence was a sure indicator of trouble. She didn't think that Cain would enjoy the surprise of Zero's placement in the Commander's forces any more than she did, but she had a nasty feeling in her pit of her stomach that the ex-Longcoat had already revealed himself to Cain.

Her thoughts on what she was supposed to do about this ended when the labyrinth of stairwells and corridors led to a doorway that was waiting open for her. Without announcement, she was shoved inside and the door was shut with a bang behind her.

"_End of the Road, Princess."_ She shivered.

The room itself was spacious, though it was as bare and stark as the room she occupied somewhere in the barracks. The lamps were turned low, and the fire that burned bright behind the grate gave the illusion of the evening that time only hinted at by clocks that marched dutifully on. Above her head, darkness had fallen and the snowstorm raged on. Or so she was told.

Leaning against the mantel was the Commander, and she felt herself shrink back toward the door when she finally made him out in the dim light. His size intimidated her, but what he was capable of intimidated her more. It took a moment to find her courage, a moment more to stand straighter, by which time he'd begun to speak.

"Well rested after your encounter with the Witch, Your Highness?" was his first inquiry.

"Rested enough," she said carefully. He gestured with a hand at the chairs before the fire, but she declined the seat, though she did move a little closer to the fireplace. She wanted to better see the face of the Outlander she'd single-mindedly tracked down all the way from the Realm of the Unwanted.

"Isn't it interesting, how one little girl can anger so many witches?" the Commander contemplated as he took in her awkwardly dressed appearance with a small smile that made her uneasy. "However, what interests me more is how and why you've managed to give all of Central City the slip."

DG thought of this complex task laid out before her, this _test_ set to her by a long-dead queen. "I've been attending family matters," she said finally, knowing she was required to give an answer. "Its no business of yours." It did no good to cower before the Commander, not when she could accomplish so much more by standing on her own two feet.

"You were seeking me out when the Lady's soldiers captured you," he said, stating it as fact.

She nodded a little nervously, shifting her body and feeling his dark eyes follow her every movement. "I was. I mean, I have," she said quickly, stumbling on her words. "Its a long story. I – "

The Commander held up a hand to cut her off. "I'm not interested in your stories just now, girl. You're here now, and under my protection. It seems that by rescuing you and your men from Catticalisa, I've inadvertently allied myself with you."

DG frowned. "You didn't have to save us."

"Had my men not intervened, your escort would be dead and you'd be on your way to imprisonment and eventual death in the Black Forest."

Her stomach churned at the thought of Cain or Hass dying because of her. She'd all but failed in her task when the Outlanders had arrived to drive off the Witch and her men. The Commander had practically given her a 'get out of jail free' card. She owed him her thanks, and probably her life... though she thought it best to save such sentiments for later.

"Was she here to ask you to ally yourself with her, against my sister?" she asked.

The Commander nodded solemnly. "She was. It was my desire to stay neutral in this mess she plans to stir up, as my people have always remained in the affairs of the lands connected to ours."

DG knew a little of the history of the Outlanders before their banishment from the Zone. Shady dealings with the kings of the O.Z., before Dorothy Gale came to change everything; trafficking their own people as slaves in exchange for the great wealth that poured from the mines of the mountain dwelling Outlanders.

"Now that you have my interest so thoroughly tied up in your cause," continued the Commander, effectively drawing DG's attention back to him, "we must do what is necessary to preserve our agreement over the Emerald, and keep it out of Catticalisa's hands."

"_Why_ does she want the Emerald?" DG asked; her mind grumbling, _I need to get rid of this damned rock, its nothing but absolute misery_.

The Commander smirked. "To overthrow your sister, of course. To become Queen of the Outer Zone. Azkadellia's rule is legitimate, and Catticalisa requires the stone's power to usurp the rightful queen."

DG sighed, and covered her face with her hands. Ten annuals before, Azkadellia had seized the throne from their mother, an easy task as their mother had no magic with which to defend her kingdom once her armies had been turned or defeated. Now, Azkadellia's magic grew stronger daily as the taint of the Possession drained from her soul. Az wouldn't go down without a considerable fight.

DG dropped her hands away from her face. "Well, without Az or I to help her, she'll never _get_ the Emerald. Its guarded by the Gray Gale..." She stopped herself there, knowing the Commander didn't need to be told that only a Gale daughter could open the doors that guarded the Tomb.

"And how exactly do you plan on hiding from the Lady Catt, now that she's aware of your movements?" The Commander asked her, his eyes going back to the fire. "She's got quite a way of keeping an eye on things."

DG's brow screwed up in confusion for a moment, before a clear reality dawned like a bucket of ice-water over her head. _She's got that damn book! Tutor said you could ask it to show you anyone in the Zone!_ Her thoughts began to scatter around frantically inside her head, proverbial marbles going every which way.

"Unless you find a way to hide from the Lady Catt," the Commander told her in ominous tones, "she'll pounce on you the moment you've extracted the Emerald from your family tomb, as certainly as the suns rise in the West."

_Or at any point between the Tomb and the moment I march right into her base of operations,_ DG's brain tormented her; giving a dejected sigh and unsure of what exactly she was supposed to do, she finally sank into one of the chairs the Commander had offered her, and put her chin in her hand, elbow on her knee, to stare off into the flames that lit the room.

The Commander leaned against the mantel, returning to his earlier position of staring into the flames. "I ask you then to hand the Emerald over to me. Abandon your futile quest to 'destroy its power'. The stone will remain safe with me, deep under the mountains of the Outlands."

DG studied the profile of the Outlander before her, features that would have seemed _handsome_ on a human, but were only sharp and aggressive on his rough-skinned face. He was offering her a clean way out. To pass over the stone and forget all about the entire mess; go back to Central City, marry Wyatt Cain, live the life she was meant to. No more traipsing across the countryside, no more ducking into shadows frightened of a big bad witch.

She could almost forget her ancestress' quiet entreaty to destroy the magic that bound her spirit to the O.Z.

"_The Eclipse is over, the Emerald no longer needs a Guardian. It holds me here, but I am tired..."_

"I can't," DG said in a choked voice, surprised at the words that spilled out of her mouth without her bidding. "My test isn't complete until I render the stone magic-less."

The Commander's eyes shot straight to her, making her shiver with the sudden ferocity of his gaze. "Test?"

She only shrugged her shoulders. Even she didn't understand it.

"You are determined to go through with your foolish plan?" the Commander asked her.

Without looking up, DG nodded.

The Commander sighed, a gravelly sound. When he spoke again, his voice was considerably softer, if such a thing were possible. "Do you know _how_ the Lady Catt came across such a fantastic treasure as the book in her possession?"

Silently, DG shrugged, though she met the Commander's eyes. Was he trying to distract her with a story?

Tapping his fingers on the mantel – _chink, chink, chink! – _the Commander took a deep breath before beginning to speak. "The book was a gift to the young daughter of King Pastor."

"The Lost Princess?"

"Aye," he said with a nod. "A magical gift for a long awaited magical princess. Why anyone would put such a powerfully magic object in the hands of a child as a _toy_ is beyond practical reason, but you humans..." Here the Commander paused, to perplexedly shake his head. "The book was stolen along with the child herself. Catticalisa's lust for the throne of the O.Z. goes farther back than your sister's controversial second reign."

"She kidnapped Pastor's daughter?" DG asked. "But that would make her – "

"She's seen hundreds of annuals," said the Commander with a dismissive wave of his hand. His black eyes were bearing down on her once more. "The Witch imprisoned the child where no man or woman in the Zone could possibly ever find her."

DG turned her chin slightly in thought. "But why?"

The Outlander shook his head. "Don't ask me to untangle the elaborate schemes of a sorceress. One might assume for Pastor to grow desperate for the return of his daughter. Perhaps to wait until his magic had weakened."

"And then?"

The Commander chuckled low. "I would think you'd be able to figure that one out on your own."

It didn't take DG long to come up with the answer. "To possess the Princess? And take the throne as the heir?" Taking a moment to think, she shook her head slightly with the train of thought. History seemed to be falling into place faster than her brain wanted to keep up. She'd never been much good at puzzles, but... "Then Dorothy arrived in Central City with the Emerald."

"Smart girl," the Commander said, his smile widening. "But no. By the time the Gale arrived in Central City, Catticalisa had already abandoned her ambitions and gone back into hiding. Biding her time, as evil often does." Here, the Commander cocked an eyebrow at her. "From what is known, Catticalisa _lost_ the Lost Princess."

"The Princess escaped her prison?"

The Commander shrugged his massive, powerful shoulders. "The daughter of Pastor never resurfaced, as you know from your Ozian history," he said with great disdain, and DG swallowed down a wave of anger at his derisive tone toward her homeland, the place she'd been trying to protect since being shoved off a roof into a Travel Storm. "I hope now that you see, Princess," the Commander continued, "why it is of the utmost importance that Catticalisa does _not_ get her hands on you again."

DG let out a long exhale, her chest tightening with the weight of the truth. "With me, she gets the Emerald."

"And a vessel of Light through which to channel her dark magic," said the Commander. "And next in line for the throne of the O.Z., imagine the convenience."

DG ran her hands through her hair, yanking at it a bit to keep herself grounded in reality. Becoming possessed was definitely _not_ on her to-do list for this lifetime, and the solid truth of just how close she'd come to it – once again – frightened and humbled her.

"Why now, though?" DG asked herself, not expecting an answer. The Commander, however, had one for her.

"She's an amazing opportunist. Azkadellia's Longcoat army was scattered and hunted; Catticalisa rallied them, giving them new promises and direction. A natural leader, much like yourself," the Commander said with an appraising nod. DG felt herself blush, and hoped it would go unnoticed in the dim light. "Your mother would have done well to put you on the throne instead of your sister."

DG shook her head; she couldn't possibly disagree with anything more. "The rightful queen wears the crown."

The cool, calculating look that the Commander gave her sent an involuntary shiver through her, raising the hairs on her arms. "Not all in your country see it that way," he said. "The Lady Catt will have learned much in the annuals she's watched the O.Z. The old crone wasn't confined to a cave."

DG closed her eyes, remembering the wet, cold cavern and the seal she and her sister had accidentally broken. So much had been done since the Eclipse to restore the country, and the people's faith in Gale rule. All of it could come unravelled with the Lady Catt tugging at the loose strings.

"Without the Emerald, the Lady Catt has nothing," the Commander reiterated.

"No," DG said, taking the Commander by surprise. "She's got a bunch of disillusioned, Gale-hating Longcoats and a magic picture book." Already, she was trying to figure out how to hide from the book. As her mother had tried to preserve her memories and keep them safe from Ozian forms of interrogation... _wait, could that be it? Could the mind-shield Mother placed on me already be keeping me hidden?_

"While in this barracks," said the Commander, "you are out of the Zone, and therefore out of the reach of the book's sight. Once you re-enter the country, the book will be able to pinpoint your location at the Lady's whim."

_Not if my magic can fix that,_ DG thought.

* * *

***

* * *

"Do you ever get the feeling," Travers mused, as he hacked expertly at the base of a sapling with a hatchet, "that the Gods _hate_ you?"

Jeb paused for a moment with his armload of sweet-smelling felled saplings. "I might've had that notion once or twice," he said, with a knowing grin directed at his partner than his words could in his current setting.

The two young men had been set to take over the task of clear-cutting around the ruined temple. An unending task, as the very Forest itself seemed to be trying to reclaim the land the Longcoats were clearing. Every morning, new trees sprouted, some two to three feet high, when the evening before there'd been nothing. Even stranger, since Jeb's arrival new and strange red flowers were popping up around and _over_ the temple, in every moss-filled crevice of the imposing, ruined structure that dominated the glade at the heart of the Forest known as Deadwood Fall.

How anything could grow in this deep, dark corner of the Zone was beyond Jeb; no light from the twin suns cut through the canopy of tangled branches above his head. But the little red flowers were tenacious, and within a few days, Jeb figured the temple itself and the grounds would be carpeted with them.

The headway of every day was minimal, if existent at all. The magically-charged air fuelled swift growth in the trees that took root in the soil; sunslight seemed unnecessary in the chemical processes of these living beings, but the trees grew stunted, shooting up rapidly at awkward angles, with black bark that gave the forest its name.

At first, Jeb had been amazed by the place where he could literally watch the grass grow. However, he soon found out there would be no such time for leisure, not that he'd expected it. On a twelve-hour work rotation, the Lady Catt's men worked tirelessly to clear the temple grounds before she returned from – just quite where she'd gone, Jeb hadn't been able to discover. Her return was expected in two days time.

Jeb was now closing on his third day as a Longcoat supporter, bringers of radical change. There was much laughing and joking around the fires at night, but also included were the miserable grumblings of men once defeated. It was a hate for Azkadellia that bound these men here, hate for Gale witches in general. Jeb stayed silent as he listened to the other men speak, eating his food without comment, and nodding when appropriate.

His familiar surname was beginning to cause less of a stir, and his third day had gone without confrontation with any of the Lady's soldiers. Jeb wasn't required to prove himself to anyone – just yet, that was, as it would be a different story once the Lady had arrived.

The Cain name was loathed, but also spoken with quiet respect. The unimaginable luck of one Wyatt Cain was the stuff legends were born of, and it made Jeb want to snicker into his sleeve to hear of the un-killable ex-Tin Man who had played such a huge part in the fall of the Sorceress and the rising of Azkadellia from the ashes.

After finishing their shift, Jeb and Travers headed toward the central fire, where a makeshift field-kitchen had been erected. Filling their plates with what little food remained from the last meal served, the two young men sat down upon hard benches that lined a long, scrubbed-wood table resting under the tent canopy.

The men at the fire, enjoying the quietude of the night in the Lady's absence, were discussing their enchantress leader.

"Catt and her company should be arrivin' before two days have gone past," an older soldier was telling the group that listened to him. Jeb recognized his face from a wanted poster in Central City; he'd been under General Lonot during the search for the Emerald, and had been one of the Sorceress's most loyal supporters. To find him hiding here in the Black Forest – to find any of these men here – was of very little surprise. Jeb didn't let it bother him anymore.

"They'll be movin' faster once they hit the cave systems at the gorge," the old soldier at the fire continued. "No need to worry about hidin' from the royal army then."

"She'll be itching to get her fingers back on the Book!"

Jeb turned to Travers and cocked an eyebrow. _'Book?'_ he mouthed curiously.

Travers, who was sitting with his back to the men at the fire, turned in his seat momentarily to consider the men who were speaking. After a brief glance, he faced Jeb once again and shrugged his shoulders.

It wasn't long after that Quartermaster Briones came ambling across the base and threw himself down onto the bench beside Jeb. Immediately, he lit a cigarette, and had gotten halfway through it before finally greeting the young men he'd joined.

"Howdy boys," he said genially. Over the past few days, the quartermaster had taken a liking to the newest recruits, and had grumbled quite loudly about losing them to the hard-labour at the temple. "How's chopping firewood going for ya?"

Travers grunted into what was left of his stew, and said nothing. Jeb, however, was feeling especially brave.

"Temple duty," Jeb said seriously, "is a chore straight from the three circles of hell."

Briones chortled loudly, drawing the attention of a few of the men at the fireside. Jeb kept his head down, and after a few moments, the men had turned their focus back to the gossip about the fire. Jeb nodded towards them, and Briones took a lazy look.

"What's this _book_ they're talking about, Briones?" Jeb asked.

"You two don't know about that damn book yet?" Briones asked incredulously, cutting his disbelieving laugh short to take a drag off his cigarette. Annoyed, Jeb shook his head. He didn't want a conversation, he just wanted information. While the quartermaster was always willing to talk, he'd found there was usually a lengthy story attached. Everything came with its price.

Briones lowered his voice. "The Witch has got herself a little girl's picture book, locked away in her tent," he said, and grinned with the secret he revealed, unknowingly providing his enemy with everything he wanted. "Now this ain't no ordinary book. Men around the camp are saying it comes from the time of King Pastor."

Now, Jeb knew his Ozian history... and then some. History taught its students of old Pastor, an ageing king who lost his only child, and whose vitality was renewed with the arrival of Dorothy. The young girl had come seeking his aid to protect the Emerald of the Eclipse, an object foretold to come to the royal family of the O.Z. The historical records, however, left out the role of the Outlanders in the finding and the passing over of the stone. Of these events, Jeb would never have known had he not followed DG and Corporal Hass into the forest after the Outlanders the annual before.

"What use is a picture book?" Travers asked.

"A great lot of use," Briones said with a snort, "as its helping the Lady keep tabs on the army and the royal family."

Jeb's head whirled around at the vaguest mention of Azkadellia. "Keeping tabs on them how?"

"Not sure how the magic works, m'self," Briones said slowly, putting out what remained of his cigarette on the tabletop. "Ask it to show you a person, and it shows you, clear as day. Or so I've been hearing, at least. The Lady keeps the book pretty close to her, and its under heavy guard while she's away."

After that, Briones nodded, and went into a long-winded spiel about the many things a book like that would be good for spying on... extracurricular activity, of course.

Frowning, Jeb stomached the knowledge that Azkadellia's enemies were able to watch her every movement, if they were so inclined. The army had _no idea_ that the Longcoats and the woman that led them had such a powerful magical object at their disposal. If the Lady had been peeping for the past annual, perhaps even farther back... he might be in a lot more trouble than he'd first anticipated.

* * *

***

* * *

Wyatt Cain could say that he hadn't had such a day in quite a while. What exactly made it so different from any other was beyond him. Nothing should truly surprise him, not after all he'd been through since DG had released him from the iron suit, but he had to admit that this first day underground had thrown him for quite a few loops.

How long he'd slept after collapsing on the bare mattress, he wasn't too sure but he'd awoken chilly, stiff, and hungry. His things were mostly dry, so he'd put his vest back on, as well as his socks and boots, in an effort to warm up. His duster, a heavier garment, was still too damp, which was a shame as it would have insulated him a bit better.

He'd washed, and taken better care of the injuries sustained from the fight with the Lady Catt's men. His knuckles were cracked and bruised, and his sore ribs would definitely keep him moving careful for a few days. Looking over himself in the bathroom mirror by lamplight, he saw deep purple welts breaking out all over his side, not at all pretty. As he'd buttoned his shirt back up, he found himself thanking his patron that his injuries didn't go any farther than that.

Most of what he assumed was the afternoon was spent pacing his cell. He listened for movement in the hall, and to the talk amongst the guards. There was no mention of the others – not Hass, or Raw – and the only disturbance in the monotony of silence were a few displaced shouts and echoes, a commotion of some sort a few passages over. Whatever it was, it was over quick enough and Cain was back to listening to the quiet.

A few hours after he'd woken, while he was sitting on his cot and staring at the square of light coming in from the corridor, his cell door was opened.

The sight of Zero entering the room wasn't one that was going to be leaving him soon. While the appearance stunned Cain into silence, it didn't stop his brain from ticking away as he slowly got to his feet. He realized, before Zero had even spoken a word, that the Sorceress' formal general had found a remarkable hiding spot – that, and Wyatt was pretty certain that the elusive key to the Black Forest that DG was looking for was now staring him straight in the face.

"Its good to see you, Cain," said Zero dryly.

Cain said nothing, though his throat was constricting shut in fury faster than he could try to control. He'd put to rest his thoughts of revenge for the murder of his wife, and had come to terms with the fact Zero would never be brought to justice. Now, the ex-Longcoat stared him down with an arrogance that spoke of too much misplaced confidence. Zero was assured in his position over Cain.

No, Cain's words were definitely one satisfaction he wasn't willing to give his enemy.

"The guards on this level were whispering about capturing a true-to-life hero," Zero mused, hands behind his back as he stood at-ease in front of Cain. "I'm a little disappointed to see that its just you."

Cain rolled his eyes, allowing himself minimal reaction.

Zero's nostrils flared as Cain's refusal to rise to his gloating ruined his fun. "Still following around the Other Sider, out looking for trouble," he bullied, attempting a deeper cut for better results.

Cain snorted. "More like trouble finds us. And what about you? Hidin' from the Longcoats _and_ the royal army. How much time to you spend lookin' over your shoulder every day?"

The fight had broken out not long after. Who had said what exactly, Cain couldn't be sure, but as he was dodging Zero's punches and landing his own, he was vaguely aware of more guards coming in. Tackled, subdued, it had taken awhile for Cain to pick himself back up off the floor again, only to sit back on the cot with his knees up and wonder who exactly had thrown the first punch.

That was where DG found him. Blinded by the influx of light pouring in from the hallway, he staggered to his feet, catching a brief glimpse of her silhouetted curls flowing down her back before she shut the door and threw them into darkness once again.

"Wyatt!" She whispered his name like a vow as she ran to him, catching him off-guard with the force of her embrace. He grunted in discomfort and pain as she squeezed him. "Oh God, I'm sorry! Are you hurt?"

"Nothin' not fightin' with the guards won't fix," he said, but as she gingerly held onto him, his attempt at humour fell short. She made to pull away from him altogether, but he put his arms around her to keep her where she was. The thin slice of light coming into the room from the hall fell across her dark hair, and when she tipped her head back to look at him, the light illuminated her pale blue eyes for him. Resisting the urge to kiss her in front of the window where a peeping guard might see, instead he gave her a crooked smile.

"You – " She paused, clearing her throat. She lowered her tone to a bare whisper. "You fought with the guards?"

Cain frowned. "One of them in particular seemed to take a likin' to me."

The pained expression on his face told her everything she needed to know, for she answered almost immediately. "Zero?"

He nodded. "The coward's been hidin' over the border. No wonder the army was never able to get their hands on him," he said, surprised at how the anger crept up in his voice so easily, causing his tongue to clip each word. "You've seen him?"

DG let her head fall forward, pressing her forehead to his chest; his vest was caught wide open between them, and he could feel the warmth of her through the thin material of his shirt. Her breath heated him further, and almost unconsciously, his fingers clutched her a little tighter.

"I tried coming down earlier, but he stopped me. He tried – well, never mind, but I think I put him in his place."

Cain's smile widened a little. "So all that fuss earlier was you, huh?" Without pulling her head away from his chest, she nodded, and he was certain she was blushing. He tangled his fingers in the hair at the base of her neck and tugged back gently. Surely enough, her cheeks were stained pink, evident even in the minimal light. "Can't say I'm surprised. How'd you manage to get down here this time?"

"I sweet-talked the guard at the end of the hallway. He sent your door-monkey off on an errand." The grin that spread across her face proved how proud of herself she was. "I'm not sure how long we've got. It'll probably be a scene when he comes back and finds me in here." As suddenly as it had appeared, her smile was gone.

Unwilling to let her go just yet, Cain dragged her back into the closet-sized bathroom, away from prying eyes at the door. The lamp was resting on the floor, and DG lit it with her magic, washing them in flickering orange light. He watched her as she leaned against the porcelain sink, sadness still dominant in her face. "You okay, Darlin'?" he asked her carefully.

"Yeah," she said, and began to nod... but the gesture quickly turned into a rapid shaking of her head, as if she were trying to get rid of unwanted thoughts by rattling them loose. "No, no. I'm not." Tears sprang fast to her eyes, and her voice broke. Unsure of what kind of comfort she wanted, Cain watched her for a long moment before finally reaching for her and pulling her away from the sink and against his chest.

"What's eatin' you up?" he asked, keeping his tone as soft as he could manage while trying to figure out what had caused her drastic turn in emotion.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, her voice almost too choked with held-back tears to make out.

"Sorry? What for?"

She sniffled. "I'm the reason we're in this mess. I broke my promise to you, and now Lady Catt knows that we're up to something, and knows that we know _she's_ up to something, and – " She cut herself off with a huge, hitching sigh. "And I'm confused enough about everything as it is, and now I think I've got to perform a mind-shield spell on you and I don't know how and – "

Cain's eyebrows shot up. "Woah, hold your horses one minute there, Deeg. You want a _what_ spell on... _me_?"

DG put her hands over her face, wedging her elbows between them. "I'm getting ahead of myself. Don't listen to me, I don't think I know what I'm talking about just yet."

"No, Princess," he said firmly, and walked her back a step to the sink once again. Leaning her back a little, he placed both hands on her hips and lifted her to perch precariously on the edge of the porcelain basin so he could better look in her eyes. Automatically seeking her balance, she spread her legs and squeezed about his own hips, trying to steady herself.

The white dress under his hands had a rough texture to it that felt wrong on her, and the skirt was riding up between them. Not letting go of her hips, he repeated his earlier question, absently making an attempt to keep himself calm as he asked so as not to send her skittering again. "Why do you need to perform a shield spell on me, Darlin'?"

The girl's blue eyes searched the space between them as if the words she needed to speak were written on the air. "The book. Lady Catt will be able to find us – but why hadn't she found us already?" The question didn't seem to be for him to answer, for she began to speak again, rushing now. "I think it might be because of the cloak my mother put over my memories as a child." She touched her dark hair with one hand, the other snaking around his shoulders for balance. "I think its been _hiding_ me somehow. And – and I have to hide you, too."

Exhaling deeply in frustration, Cain leaned his forehead against her hair as he went over in his mind what she'd said. He knew very little about magic, but it seemed to be an explanation for why the Lady hadn't known of their movements through the countryside. If she'd asked the book to show her DG, it was possible that the book would come up blank.

He however had no shield over his mind to hide beneath. Because of their encounter, Lady Catt was well aware of his place at DG's side. Without the protection of DG's magic, he was going to become a liability.

"I have to think it through some more, but its all I can come up with," she finished lamely.

He frowned, and growled softly; her knees tightened almost imperceptibly on his hips at the sound. "We'll do what we have to do," he told her, his conviction causing her to shiver. She looked up at him with the eyes he'd come to know as her Kansas eyes, wide and honest and laid bare with everything she had in her. He knew the thought of performing a complex spell – and on _him_ to boot – would be making her nervous. She didn't need that unnecessary anxiety adding to the load on her shoulders. "I've got a feelin' we'll muck through."

For a moment, DG stiffened and then quite suddenly, her hands were on his collar, and she was yanking his face to hers before there was time for a reaction; she led his lips in a hot, desperate kiss. Inwardly glad that his reassurance had had such an effect on her, he returned her kiss, taking over her mouth until he was better in control. She allowed the role reversal, melting into him while her hands ran over his shoulders, up his neck, into his short hair. When he nipped at her lip, she scratched his scalp lightly with her fingernails, and he broke away from the kiss breathlessly.

"Can't," he managed to tell her before her wandering hands were on the move again, tugging at the back of his neck impatiently. The heat coming off of her pressed against his stomach, and he imagined her growing wet under his hands, a thought almost too much to bear. The days of travel, the uncertainties in their immediate future had him missing her more than he'd thought possible, and with her body arcing bowstring-tight in his arms, it was hard to tell his brain – and his lower extremities – that he had to put a stop to it, and _now._

But no, instead... "Gods, you feel good," he whispered into her neck, lowering his lips to her flesh to taste and kiss her as he pleased. DG writhed against him, her hips grinding forward to rub her center against his stomach, to create some of the friction and pressure he knew her body ached for. Over her skirt to her stockinged knee, he gripped her leg and slowly ran his hand up under her skirt. When his fingers hit the bare skin of her thigh, scorching hot, she inhaled choppily. Hitching her leg a little further up on his hip, Cain let his fingers roam up, squeezing and caressing where he willed, until his hand came up and around to cup her sweetly rounded bottom.

"Wyatt," she breathed, her sense absolutely lost in the minimal touches he gave her. He knew exactly where to rub her, where to tease, where to blow gently on skin already moistened by his kisses. He could take her now, he knew, but he held on tight to his restraint. With one hand still firmly molded to her bottom, his free hand caught her by the cheek to look into her eyes, but her big blues had slipped closed, and her teeth were digging into her lip.

Watching her face carefully, he tightened the arm under her skirt, dragging her hips closer to the edge of the sink and pressing his solid abdomen firmly between her legs. She gasped, and near choked on the whimper that followed. Her blue eyes popped open and locked onto his. Her hands, which had been caught between them, now reached up to tear open the top buttons of his shirt. Her hands delved inside the garment, seeking out no more it seemed than the very touch of his bare skin, and he found himself being hauled down once again into a passionate, open-mouthed kiss.

The girl was rapidly throwing caution to the wind, and he knew he was about to be sent over the edge with her. What control he had over his body was gradually slipping out of his grasp, and despite the press of her body or the scent of her hair or even the tender handful of her backside, there wasn't anything to convince Cain that he'd be making love to DG that night.

"Cain," she whispered imploringly. The low moan that followed his name, tumbling from her lips like sweet prayer, practically begged him to continue touching her, to distract her and replace her lonely hopelessness with something more palpable and real: his love.

Giving her bottom one last gentle squeeze, Cain extracted himself from her embrace before her voice did him in. "I know, Darlin', I know," he said, lowering his head to kiss the crook of her neck and shoulder. He caught sight of his reflection, starved eyes and determined expression, and chuckled into her skin. "Don't think I don't fancy the idea of havin' you in front of a mirror."

DG pulled back to look up at him with heavily-lidded blue eyes. Whether the haze was passion- or exhaustion-induced, when he dragged the rough pad of his thumb down her cheek, it seemed to bring her back to her senses. Her eyes widened slightly, and her mouth fell open. She hopped off the sink the next second, bumping him back a step.

Cain cocked his scarred eyebrow. "What is it?"

DG ignored him. He watched her in the mirror as she studied her reflection, touching the glass in seemingly random places. "Mirror..." she said, and trailed off. Tapping the glass once more with her fingers, she whirled to face him, her face lighting up with a brilliant smile. "Wyatt, that's it – the mirror!"

* * *

_Author's Note II: Everyone still with me? I know I've lost some readers due to the length of this piece... I hope not to lose anyone else. I can't tell the story any other way. Also, Cain gets over himself very, **very **soon. I coulda made this shorter, but that would have cut out the almost!smut. And we couldn't have that, could we? _

_So, any opinions on my plot developments? I'd love to hear if you do.  
_


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

_Author's Note: Another long one, hopefully it makes up for the wait. A quick recap, since it _has_ been so long - DG and Cain have run across their new enemy (the Lady Catticalisa) in the Western Mountains, and were saved by their old foe-turned-ally, the Outlanders - and have discovered that Zero has spent the last annual hiding over the border, working as a scout for the Commander. Now they seek a way to keep themselves hidden from _The Record_, a magic picture book that shows anyone you ask it to see, before returning to the Zone and heading for the Black Forest, and the temple at Deadwood Fall._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter Twenty Seven**

DG hurriedly relayed everything the Commander had mentioned about the book, the Lady Catt, and her inadvertent role in putting Dorothy Gale on the throne of the O.Z.

At first, Cain didn't believe her. Not that she'd expected him to.

To his credit, Wyatt had listened patiently. He hadn't asked questions. For ten minutes he stood, barely moving as she paced back and forth in the tiny bathroom, talking fast and flailing her hands. When finally she came to her conclusion, she leaned against the wall opposite him, slightly dizzy.

Wyatt slowly shook his head, putting a hand over his eyes. "You think the girl you've been seein' in the mirror is a princess? No, no... _the_ Lost Princess?"

"It makes perfect sense!"

He groaned. "I think 'perfect' might be a bit too strong a word, Darlin'."

Frowning, she crossed her arms over her chest. Perhaps he was right that _perfect sense_ it might not be, but it was the only thing that seemed to make _any_ sense. When he saw that she wasn't about to fight him, he sighed, and looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

"And what exactly does this girl got to do with what we're tryin' to get done?"

DG felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth; Cain always had a way of simplifying things. "I don't know yet," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe I'll just ask her."

Cain gave her a half-smile, both of amusement and disbelief. "Ask her?"

Before DG could answer, the sound of the cell door being wrenched open brought to her attention that she'd stayed over-long. Cain bolted upright and away from the sink, and she ran to him for a quick kiss, a whispered promise to return in the morning. Leaving him alone in the bathroom, she put herself between him and the guards, going easily and avoiding any trouble. She caught sight of Zero hovering outside of Cain's door before being escorted up the stairs again.

The guard who took his position outside her door was frightened of her. He refused to physically touch her, unlike most that had come before him, always been eager to push and pull. Her attempts to get his name out of him went unanswered.

DG spent most of the night thinking too much, going over what she knew again and again in her mind before finally passing out into a deep, exhausted sleep. She'd crawled into bed in the borrowed dress because she didn't want to face the mirror in the bathroom to wash up or change. Not just then, at any rate.

Morning – or whatever time it was when she awoke, she couldn't be too sure – was a different story. Her sleep had been plagued by half-dreams, wisps of colour, voice, and event that whirled into a big blur. The image of a leather-bound book slamming shut had jarred her awake, and she sat up with her heart hammering.

In the strange, old bed, it didn't take long for her mind to start buzzing. She couldn't lie around while there were things to be done... her meeting with the Commander the night before had barely touched down on the subject of the Emerald... or the vague promises she'd made him the year before.

"_He can have the Emerald... _after_ I've found a way to destroy the magic that dwells within it."_

Unsure of how exactly to _do _it, DG had paid a visit to the Reader on Az's advice, and the Reader had sent her West on the promise that her problem was not _how_ to destroy the magic of the Emerald, but _where_ it would be possible to do so. So West she'd come, almost blindly. Here she was, waiting for lightning to strike or for the proverbial light bulb over her head to blaze with inspiration. How the hell was the Commander supposed to help her sneak the Emerald into the Black Forest... especially if the Lady Catt could keep an eye on her through Cain? At least, assuming that she herself was protected at all by the cloak on her memories.

Shaking her head, DG put thoughts of the Commander and the Emerald aside as she got out of bed. She gasped when her feet hit the cold cement floor, worse than even her own attic in the dead of Kansas winter. She didn't think about food, or her own clothes. Braiding her hair messily as she went, she left her room with the Commander's nameless guard hot on her heels. She knew she couldn't continue with their plan to infiltrate the Black Forest if the Lady Catt could see them coming. So, she went to the only person she could think of that might be able to help her with her magic.

Raw came to the barred window in his cell door the moment he heard DG arguing with his guards. He grinned toothily at her as she negotiated fifteen minutes alone with him. When the Commander's men finally relented, DG gave the first truly happy smile Raw was sure he'd seen on her in a long time.

When the door was slammed shut and locked behind her, DG hugged her friend. "Second try always better," Raw said quite sagely as she pulled away.

"How are you holding up?" she asked him tentatively.

"Raw likes quiet. Raw do better than others," he told her sadly, nodding his head subtly in the vague direction of the cells of Hass and Cain, which she'd found the night before. A knot began to form in her stomach at the thought of Hass pacing his cell like a caged animal, of Cain locked in alone with his memories.

Raw, feeling the dark shift in her emotions, reached out and touched her wrist.

"You are still fine," he told her, and she smiled, as if she'd needed his reassurance. "But come for reason."

"Um, yeah," DG said slowly, as she ran her hands through her hair. Raw watched her patiently, a look of concern in his eyes as he watched her shake loose her jangled nerves. "I need you to take a look at the protection my mother put over my memories."

Raw's brow furrowed in confusion. "Take... look?"

DG gave him the best pair of puppy-eyes she could manage. "I need to know all I can about the magic before I try and cast the spell on Cain."

Raw's eyes widened. "Tin Man won't like idea."

"Raw, the witch we ran into on the road has a book that helps her find anyone in the Zone," she explained quickly. "I think that the magic protecting my memories hides me from the book's sight." Raw, as Cain had, looked wary of this fact. Frowning, she continued. "I can't think of any other explanation why Lady Catt didn't know I wasn't in Central City."

"DG just want Raw to _look_?" he asked her apprehensively.

Silently, she nodded. She knew that both of their thoughts had gone to the damage done to Lylo when he'd been forced to View her memories, trying to unearth the hidden location of the Emerald. The old Viewer had managed to discover a piece of the secret - _"Emerald... is in... the Gray Gale!" –_ and had paid a most terrible price for it. DG understood Raw's hesitation and fear, but she also knew that if he didn't try to bypass the magic with his own power, no harm would come to him.

Raw seemed to come to the same conclusion, because he dragged an old metal stool into the center of the room and motioned wordlessly for her to take a seat. Perching herself on the stool, she practised her best princess posture and waited with bated breath as he stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

Raw gave the slightest jump, and his breathing quickened almost imperceptibly. DG's teeth sunk into her lower lip as she waited, glancing around the room and feeling nothing out of the ordinary at all, except for the feather-light weight of his hands on her shoulders. The grip of his fingers tightened and loosened rhythmically as the seconds passed... No more than five minutes went by before Raw let go of her shoulders, and took a step back away from her.

DG spun around on the stool. "Are you okay? What did you see?" She tried not to let his dark eyes of misgiving bother her. Not without vocal confirmation.

Raw took a deep breath, and it looked to her for a moment that he might be struggling with his words. But no... "Spell is... woven on memories. Protects through hiding... con- … _conceals, _like memories not there at all. DG can see but... no one else can see."

"Is it complicated?" she asked, unsure if he would be able to answer the question as thoroughly as Azkadellia or her mother might. She didn't want to let herself focus on how difficult long-distance communication was; on the Other Side, it would merely have been a case of picking up the phone, or sending an E-mail. Now, there would be no way of asking her mother about the spell short of walking to the Northern Island... and once was enough for her lifetime.

Raw shook his head. "Not hard. Not dangerous. Spell formed from true wish to protect."

"Is it something I'm going to be able to do?" she wondered aloud.

"DG has power to make spell," Raw said with a rumbling sigh. "Raw not sure... DG should think more. Meditate, maybe."

She shook her head. They didn't have much time left; the storm that dumped inches and inches of snow in the mountains couldn't last forever. There was still so much she had yet to accomplished. "I have to try," she said slowly. "We're all in trouble if Catt can find us and follow us. Even you."

Raw tapped his temple. "Raw not human. Raw safe."

DG gave him a weak smile, hoping he was right. "I'll go to Cain soon. We should get this over with as soon as we can."

"DG must not hurry," Raw interjected quickly. "Take time. Spell will..." He hesitated, once again stumbling over his second language. "Bind. Spell bring DG and Cain close. Tie with magic. Tie not break easy."

"Anything that keeps him out of the book's sight is fine by me," she told her friend. She and Cain were already bound by more than just emotion, or the physical relationship they shared. What difference the spell would make, she didn't know.

Raw put an arm around her shoulders. "DG need rest, then. Magic will take much; be ready for drain."

Oh... the drain hadn't been something she'd taken into consideration. Leaning into Raw, she nodded. "Thank you," she told him, and was glad when he smiled at her. "I don't know what I'd do in this crazy place without my friends."

When she pulled away, she didn't like the sad smile that he was giving her. Without explanation, he led her to the door and rapped hard on it with his gloved hand. "Rest," he reminded her. "DG meditate in peace before going to Tin Man. Better for all that way."

* * *

***

* * *

That afternoon in Central City, the Queen of the Outer Zone and her superior advisor met for lunch. Never mind that the meal was sandwiches and tea at her massive desk, or that they were merely taking a break from combing over Andrus' reports. It was quiet, and private – minus the fifteen-year-old Tory, napping on the exquisitely uncomfortable settee in the corner of the office – and it was a much needed moment of relaxation for both Azkadellia and Ambrose.

To Az, the lengthy reports were a let down, despite the progress the army made. There was no outright mention of one Lt. Jeb Cain, only a tacked-on line at the end of one hand-written letter from the general, stating that the army's scouting efforts continued unnoticed.

"The arrangements for the Harvest celebrations are coming along nicely," Ambrose mentioned offhandedly, interrupting Azkadellia's thoughts of Jeb. It was a blind attempt at beginning a conversation.

Azkadellia offered him a placating smile. "Glitch, I don't care."

Ambrose's eyebrows shot up. Az didn't often call him Glitch. The name was too close to the unmentionable subject of his headcasing at the Sorceress' hands.

Az took a careful sip of her hot tea. When Ambrose still hadn't spoken by the time she'd replaced her cup on the saucer, she sighed. "DG was looking forward to the Harvest." She looked down at her desk, covered in papers and books. "It wasn't celebrated after the Eclipse and when she found out about it..."

Ambrose picked up the Queen's trailing thought. "She felt cheated. I remember. Her first real Ozian holiday and no one told her about it."

Since the Great Famine, the shifting of the land under the Witch of the Dark, the actual harvesting of the Papay fields wouldn't be taking place for another month or so – though in truth, Az wasn't sure what kind of crop there would be with the cold snap they'd been experiencing. Glitch had mentioned to her several times a desire to research the delayed growing season and the odd weather, but she'd waved him off. The end-of-harvest celebrations held annually in Central City on September the First since before the time of Dorothy Gale would go ahead, harvest or not. An attempt to return to the time before the Sorceress' – _her_ – regime.

"When do you expect DG to return, Ambrose?" she asked him, lowering her voice. There was very little opportunity for her to drill him about her sister; the entire court believed DG and Cain had gone to Finaqua to celebrate their engagement in private as the captain took some much deserved leave. Whispering about her sister or the Tin Man was impossible – the slightest overheard word could undo all the careful planning.

Now, in the privacy of her office she could let down her guard and ask.

Ambrose leaned back in the chair he'd pulled up to her desk. "Well," he said slowly, "taking into consideration the cold weather lately, it could be another three or four days before they're back anywhere near the Central province. But –" he added on quickly, " – That is also dependent on how far West they actually travel. They could very well have gone out of the O.Z."

Azkadellia shivered at the thought, and took another sip of tea to try and warm herself. She cast a quick sidelong glance at Tory, still asleep on the brocaded sofa. She sighed. "I didn't think the days would pass so slowly."

When she looked up at her advisor, she was glad to see that he was smiling at her. "There was never any indication of how long this would take them," Ambrose reminded her. "They've been gone nine days. Its possible they could be gone for weeks more, or they could be returning within the next few days."

Azkadellia sighed deeply. "And DG didn't tell Tutor how close she was?"

"No, she just babbled on about _'The Record'_, and let slip that you'd sent her to the Reader," he admonished lightly.

"Oh, that," Azkadellia said with a blush. "Don't look at me like that. Sending her to Cynthia obviously helped."

Ambrose frowned. "Obviously." He sensed his dark mood was too much for her, and gave her a bright grin, turning it on as easily as flicking a switch. "Cheer up, Doll," he said in the tone that so often calmed DG. Thankfully, it seemed to have somewhat the same effect on Az. The Queen before him smiled weakly – it was a start. "DG and Cain will be back before you know it, and we'll be planning a ridiculously expensive wedding, much to both their chagrin."

Az rolled her eyes, but her smile widened. She was about to say something – perhaps about pink bows or floral arrangements – when Tory shifted in his sleep on the couch, muttering that he didn't want to clean out the hen-coop one more God-damned time. The two adults sitting at the desk whipped their heads around at the noise before breathing a mutual sigh of relief that the boy hadn't woken.

"And what about young Master Tory?" Azkadellia wondered aloud. "When is summoning a Travel Storm penned into my itinerary?" In DG's absence, her schedule of appearances and speeches had become almost unbearably hectic. She'd expected as much when she'd risen to the throne, but she hadn't anticipated just how much of the burden DG had shouldered before she'd gone on... _walk-about._

Ambrose gave her an indulgent, cheeky grin. "You're scheduled to walk through the Fields of the Papay immediately following the Harvest celebrations to observe the preparations for the _actual_ harvest," he said in an official-sounding voice. "But," he added, tapping the side of his nose with one long finger, "there may be a quasi-unscheduled detour to a safely undisclosed location."

Azkadellia nodded slowly. _Ah yes, a random out-of-the-way field where no one will notice a twister materializing out of thin air,_ she thought.

"Have you asked the boy how he plans to explain where he's been?" she asked the advisor pointedly. "Two weeks is a long time to disappear for."

Ambrose took a moment to turn in his chair and watch the boy, sleeping soundly on the sofa. "He doesn't seem all that concerned about it." When Azkadellia's brow knit together in confusion, Ambrose shrugged. I'm sure he'll be able to come up with some sort of story. If not, we can concoct one for him."

"And what of modifying his memory?" Azkadellia's voice lowered further still, until she was speaking in a barely-audible whisper. "To erase all of this." She looked around at the ornately-decorated office, as if it could encompass all of the Outer Zone and all that the boy had encountered, seen.

"I doubt that will be necessary," Ambrose said with a small smile. "Lets try to return him in the same condition he came to us."

Azkadellia said nothing, but drank the last of her tea. She highly doubted it would be possible for the child to return to his world the same as when he'd entered this one. How could anyone be unaffected by the beauty and mystery of the Outer Zone?

* * *

***

* * *

_Relax._

Raw had said rest. DG wondered, as she paced her small room, if he'd sensed that it would be impossible for her.

Her nerves were zinging and her brain racing, and even her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying her from one end of the sparsely furnished room to the next, back and forth until she was sure she'd worn a track in the floor. The muttering would start and stop on its own, and she was thankful she was alone... anyone listening to her would think she was insane.

The bureau in the corner of the room had a tilting mirror, one that she hadn't given much thought to when she'd discovered it. However, the night before she'd turned it to face the ceiling, unwilling to let the glass view her sleep... just in case. After returning from her visit with Raw, she'd righted the mirror and watched it nervously as she paced.

No lights floating behind the glass, no strange images of a girl who looked so eerily similar to her.

Finally... "Who am I kidding?" she asked herself, stalking over to the bureau and placing her palms flat on the bare dresser top. She stared at herself hard, waiting for something to change... but nothing did. With a sigh, she reached out and adjusted the looking glass, tilting it toward her.

She touched the glass, a quick movement as if she were a child dared to do it, leaving a thin smudge. _Nothing_. The green lights had haunted her for months until she'd avoided all mirrors. She gave a breathy laugh at the sight of herself in the glass now, curious and impatient and just a little bit scared.

"Where are you?" she whispered. Still nothing. With a frustrated growl, she reached out and pressed her palm flat against the center of the glass. "Where _are_ you?" she asked, louder this time. "Show yourself. I know you've been watching me."

_Nothing_...

DG didn't quite know what to do. She had been almost certain deep down somewhere that the strange, beautiful face would have appeared, like magic.

_Magic... Wyatt. The shield spell... _her brain stumbled over this sudden change in focus, and her shoulders fell in defeat as she turned her back on the mirror. She crossed the room and wrenched open the unlocked door. The nameless guard standing in the hall turned his head slightly at her appearance, before staring blankly ahead once more.

"I want the captain of my protection detail brought to my room," she instructed him. The guard didn't move; DG frowned, holding back a sigh of aggravation. "Send for Captain Cain," she repeated, trying her very best to channel the regal bearing of her mother and sister, women born to do what she only pretended she could do. "Immediately!" she snapped when the guard continued to hesitate. Another long moment passed, as she stared hard with blue eyes she was sure could bite as sharply as Cain's; _finally,_ the guard gave her a curt nod and headed off down the hallway.

Her heart was pounding as she closed the door, leaning up against the solid wood for support. She glanced around her small cell... and her eyes jumped back to the mirror, widening slightly in disbelief as she took a second good look at the dresser and its looking glass.

The mirror's surface _rippled_ as if water; gentle waves radiating outward from the center, where the tiniest of green lights glowed. DG didn't balk as she walked slowly forward, cocking her head to the side to perhaps change the strange image she was seeing; she wasn't disappointed when she wasn't imagining things, though she felt a bit of cold fear creep up into her belly. The rippling didn't stop, the surface of the glass didn't become solid as she put her hands on the dresser top, and gazed into the mirror, though the green light faded as her reflection... no, _the_ reflection came into view.

The reflection in the mirror wasn't her own, something she wasn't surprised to see; the young woman staring back at her had a pretty smile stretched across her lips, one that crinkled her eyes with silent laughter. _"So close..."_ the girl whispered, a voice farther off than DG had ever heard it, statically displaced. _"The Long- ...'s your key."_

DG's shook her head. "I don't understand," she said; she studied the distorted image behind the still-waving glass... whatever momentum of magic caused the glass to move, the spell was still holding. The dark brown eyes locked onto hers frantically searched her own face.

"_Longcoat!" _the reflection near moaned; the smile was gone, and she reached a hand up to touch her side of the mirror, flattening her palm and splaying her fingers, causing the waves in the glass to pick up drastically. DG could barely make out the girl's face. _"Zero, D- ...to the Fore-"_

… _Zero?_ DG felt some part of her inside stop dead in its tracks, whether it be her brain, heart, or courage. "No," she said, shaking her head almost violently. "He's a murderer!"

"_There isn't an- ...'er way," _the girl said, voice breaking and hard to understand; the green light was back, shining at the center of her chest, reminding DG of the chain that had held the Emerald around the Sorceress' neck the night of the Eclipse. _"Zero must take y- ...'nd you alone. Its the on- ...to smuggle the Em- ...temple at the Fall."_ The girl's second hand came up to the mirror, fingers spreading out in the same way. _"The only way,"_ she repeated, the clarity of her sentence hitting home hard enough to jar DG.

Thoughtlessly, DG raised her hand in the same way, wanting to touch the glass but having enough common sense to be wary. She stood with her hand in mid-air, fingers twitching on their own toward the glass. "It can't be," she whispered, more to herself than to the reflection. Mirrors reflected the true self, but DG wasn't sure how someone could exist _inside _the looking glass... "Do you need help?" she asked, her fingers mere centimeters from the liquid surface of the mirror.

"_You can't, not yet," _came the last deteriorating whisper from the girl in the mirror.

DG couldn't take it any longer... she let her fingers close the distance, pressing her fingertips to those of the young woman on the other side of the glass, the Lost Princess of the O.Z. In that moment, the glass gave one more violent heave before shattering into a thousand tiny splinters. DG screamed and jumped back, unsure if she'd done something – the door burst open in the next moment, and Cain was saying her name.

"What's goin' on?" he asked carefully as he closed the door behind him, shutting it quite effectively in the face of the guard who'd gone to fetch him.

DG's heart was hammering in her chest, and her body began to shake as she held out her arms for him. She couldn't quite remember being so happy to see someone, anyone. Cain took her silent invitation and went to her, wrapping strong arms around her trembling body, trying as best he could to soothe her while taking in the sight of the shards and dust covering the bureau, and the empty, gaping frame where the glass had been moments before.

"That's seven annuals cursed luck," he whispered low into her messy dark hair. When she pulled away a few inches to look up at him with a confused expression on her face, he nodded his chin towards the bureau in the corner. She glanced back at it before hiding her face in his chest once again. She mumbled something into his vest. He frowned. "What was that?"

"She wants me to let Zero lead the way," she said, a little louder but so fast her words strung together into one. She felt him stiffen underneath her hands as there was no mistaking what she'd said.

"_Who_ wants you to?" Cain asked her, although by the looks of the broken mirror, he had a pretty good idea.

"The..." she began, but trailed off, instead absently waving a hand toward the empty wooden frame. "Her." She couldn't quite bring herself to voice that she was taking instructions from her shifting reflection. "She said... I had to follow him alone, with the Emerald."

A deep growl rumbled through his chest, one she felt against her cheek. "Ain't gonna happen," he said, each word coming out clipped. "Not _alone_, whatever the hell you decide you're gonna do, Princess." There was no anger in his voice, but there was an emptiness that made her shiver. She pulled away, and leaned up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips; the touch caught him by surprise, and there was a startled moment before his lips moved against hers. The kiss was gentle, chaste, and it ended too soon.

"You _sure_?" he asked her, whispering against her lips. She leaned away from him and shrugged her shoulders. Cain gave a gravelly chuckle, and pressed his forehead against hers. "Aren't sure of much, are ya?"

DG couldn't help but laugh, a squeaky sound that didn't quite seem like her voice. "Not really, no."

Cain exhaled deeply. "Can't say this is comin' as a surprise; the bastard's been hoverin' so bad, its like he's expectin'... what, I don't know. I'll – well, let me do the talkin'."

DG let loose a sigh of relief, and nodded underneath the heavy press of his forehead against hers. Her hands had somehow found their way to the collar of his shirt and her fingers curled around the fabric, clinging for dear life. She wasn't sure she completely understood just how Cain felt when it came to what she was asking him to do, but she knew quite clearly that accepting what she'd suggested was difficult for him, that swallowing his pride and his objections were merely the surface of something that ran much, much deeper. She was worried, and a little afraid, but she held this back.

The silence stretched on between them, as his hands gripped at the small of her back, and her fingers flexed on his collar. After a few minutes had passed, Cain pulled back slightly, raising one hand to run his fingers through the hair at her temple. "So are you gonna tell me why you had me dragged all the way up here?" The smile he gave her was easy.

DG gave him the smallest of rueful grins. "You and me have got to make some magic happen, Tin Man."

Cain's scarred eyebrow popped upward, and she thought she saw a glimmer in his blue eyes, but it was too quick for her to be sure. "Magic, hmm?" he mused.

She definitely had his attention. The faint, distant words spoken by the girl in the mirror and the sudden shattering of the glass had practically pushed thoughts of _'The Record'_ and the shield spell from her mind, although she'd sent for Cain not seconds before she'd noticed the oddity of the liquid rippling of the mirror's surface. The addition of Zero and thoughts of his sneering, smug face had her thinking of Cain in a completely different way than intended. But now here she was being reminded by the man standing before her, her Tin Man, that they still had a job to do... one that couldn't be done until they were both safe from prying eyes... and the magic '_Where's Waldo?'_ book with which the prying eyes spied.

Without speaking, as she wasn't sure what to say, DG chewed on her lip as she reached up to cup Cain's face in her hands. He watched her patiently, icy eyes catching hers and refusing to let go. She didn't know what she was supposed to do, remembering bits and pieces of her lessons with Tutor... talk of visualization, of focus, of Light.

"I think you're going to need to sit down," she said. There were a few moments of skeptical hesitation before, without a word, Cain backed up a few steps, taking her with him. When his legs hit the edge of the bed, he sat down on the mattress. It made her nervous that he was so trusting of her, that he was about to let her... _dive into his cranium..._ she shook her head, trying to get rid of old memories. She found herself standing in the cradle created by his open legs, his knees pressed against the outside of her own. His hands stayed heavy and comforting on her hips, dragging down to her knees and then back upward again. She looked down at him, running her fingers through his pale blonde hair... every part of him was so different from her... except in the eyes.

"Deeg," he said steadily. "Stop your thinkin' right now."

She went back to biting her lip to cut off the words of defence that wanted to tumble out of her mouth. He was right; she was thinking too much. How she could focus without thinking, without putting in the conscious effort, she wasn't sure. The flow of Light had to come as easily as breathing.

DG had always been fascinated by machines, by mathematics and science; figuring out how the thing worked, taking it apart and putting it back together, solving the problem. She could do no such thing when it came to her magic, and she could never know quite _how_ she was able to do what she could. She just... _could._ Perhaps her Light was a bit like her artwork, the strange other kind of magic she could work with her hands. Holding a pencil lightly in her fingertips as her hand moved the lead fluidly over the page, creating something beautiful out of _nothing_.

Avoiding Cain's eyes, DG ran her hands over his pale hair again, taking the silliest, briefest moment to enjoy the softness she felt there compared to her own head of frizzy, tangled curls. With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes, but he reached up and grabbed her wrists, startling her enough for her eyes to pop open and seek out his.

"Kiddo," he said softly, "quit your worryin'." His eyes spoke volumes to her, so much more than his simple words were saying; that he trusted her, loved her. He _had_ been right in what he'd said the night before when he'd tried to reassure her. Somehow, they _would_ muck through. As if to reassert himself, Cain pulled her hands down to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, first her right hand, then her left. His lips lingered long next to the ring he'd put on her finger on her birthday.

She released a shaky breath. When he loosed her hands, she returned them to his hair, fingertips skimming lightly. She focused, first concentrating on the power and on her desire to keep him safe. She wanted to protect him from _anything_ that might want to hurt him, but it wasn't his body she needed to center on, but his mind. His memories...

Instantly, her fingertips anchored with a force she couldn't fight against, and her eyes snapped shut as white light flared behind her eyelids. Everything disappeared around her as she was sucked downwards, a rush of wind in her ears though somewhere in the depth of her mind she knew her feet were still planted, that Cain's hands were still on her hips.

She _heard_ it before she saw it, whatever _it_ was... it took another long moment as the cacophony of voices swarmed up around her to realize that it was the very memories and mind she was seeking to keep guarded with the weave of magical protection. Cain's voice called out, echoing deeply, but other voices as well, some she recognized and many others she didn't. There were quiet whispers, rational words, and distant screams that sounded so hauntingly familiar. The empty white space she found herself in began to darken as she walked slowly forward, finding it not at all odd that she could move her legs when she knew she was standing still.

Like dancing on air, her steps carried her; she felt grass beneath her feet, and simultaneously tiled marble, and hardwood, and uneven bricks that she somehow _knew_ were faded yellow. She was both inside, and outside; she could feel the warmth of a hearth fire, of a body pressed against her, but also coldness, a deep empty numbness that penetrated to her very bones as she sank down, down, down. Suffocating.

Scared, she moved faster as the light began to fade around her, until only one spot of brightness appeared before her, a light at the end of a tunnel. Running toward it, she saw faces in the darkness. Those of Jeb, of Adora, of the Mystic Man, her own and so many others that she didn't know. The buzz of voices became the roar of a crowd shouting, a thousand conversations memorized trying to take place at once; the voices and faces chased her, the intruder.

The space she left behind was completely black as she approached the tiny square of illumination. She realized she'd come to the end, and reached up hesitantly on her tiptoes to peek through the thick, dirty glass of the window.

What she saw made her _scream_!

Arms came up around her, yanking her down again and she fought against the hard body. Her screaming choked off in her throat, cold fear glazing over her as adrenaline shot through her. Gasping for breath, she felt like she'd come up from almost drowning, like she hadn't been breathing at all. As she gulped and struggled, a low and soothing voice sounded in her ear, close enough for her to feel the warmth of it on her neck.

"DG... hey, Princess, its okay. Its okay."

Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find she'd collapsed onto the floor, and that Cain had left his seat on the bed and was kneeling beside her, leaning over the heap she'd created. The moment that he saw her blue eyes had focused onto him, however hazy, he gathered her into the shelter of her arms, and whispered into her hair.

"Keep breathin', Kiddo. We're safe... sort of."

Coming out of her terror, she gave a shaky laugh, trying to brush off the emotion still swirling around her, trying to block out the things she'd seen. She wasn't sure if she could process it just yet. "What _happened_?"

Cain held her tucked underneath his chin, a strong hand cupping her shoulder protectively. "Don't quite know," he said; he was trembling, even though his skin was hot pressed against hers. "I was hopin' you'd be able to tell me." His hand swept heavily down her arm until reaching her hand; he tangled their fingers together. "Think you can get on your feet?"

Certain she could trust her own legs with his support, DG nodded. Cain stood first, before hauling her up, grunting a little with discomfort as he did so at the pain from the fight. She stood without swaying; she had her balance, that had to be something. She looked up at Cain, eyes wide as she studied his face; he'd gone pale, and his lips were slightly parted. Though his face was still, his eyes roved endlessly, agitated. Clearing his throat, he reached up to brush her hair away from her face. "How much of me did you see, Darlin'?"

Wrapping her arms around him, she buried her face in his neck. "All of it," she mumbled quietly. "It was so much, Wyatt." Thinking back on the last thing she'd seen, the totality of what had taken place at the Cain homestead nine annuals before, she shivered violently. She'd been unaware of so much... and the reality of Zero's betrayal and the horror Cain had been made to witness again and again hit her hard enough to hitch her breathing. Biting back her tears, she clung to Cain, disgusted with herself now that she wanted Zero's _help_.

"Isn't anythin' but memories," Cain said slowly; she could feel the shaking in his bones calming, though her own body continued to quake. "There are a lot of things we can't do anythin' about now, and its best to leave those things in the past where they belong."

DG squeezed her eyes shut. Wise words... he'd come to terms with his past already she knew, and she'd just pried into his mind. Startled and frightened as she was, she had no right to be taking on his burden when he wasn't about to give it to her. Swallowing hard and trying to gather herself, she pulled away from his neck and bravely faced him.

"Do you think your spell worked?" he asked her. His eyes were kind.

She sighed, feeling herself relax a little. Between the broken mirror and weaving the spell, she was beginning to feel the drain of it all, but Cain himself seemed... fine. Though she'd jarred him, he didn't seem at all affected by what had taken place, least of all traumatized by it. She tried a smile, but only managed a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"I felt it... the protection, I mean, going up... its hard to explain. We can have Raw check. Maybe we should do that right now." She made to move, but he held her fast.

"Don't think so, Kiddo," he said, a crooked smile quirking his lips. She looked up at him, confused; he leaned down and captured her lips with his, gently at first but pressing harder, becoming more demanding until she moaned low. He chuckled as he pulled away. "Once that adrenaline wears off, you ain't gonna be goin' anywhere for a couple hours at least."

"What? Why?" she asked, stepping back... and immediately feeling it, the drop inside. Her head gave a little spin, and the room tilted on an axis. Whatever she'd done, she'd used a good deal of magic and needed to sit, at the very least. Sleep, if her body got its way.

However, neither of these options seemed to be in her cards. As she slunk away from Cain and collapsed onto the bed, trying her best to give him a weak smile as he kept a close eye on her, there was a hard, heavy banging on the door, and it burst open.

In marched Zero, uninvited – but to DG's mind, not entirely unexpected. The surprise however came after Zero; Jowan, whom she hadn't seen since before her meeting with the Commander, was carrying a package wrapped in paper in his hands, tied up with twine.

"The Commander requests your presence at his dining table, Your Highness," Zero announced in authoritative tones.

Jowan walked across the room wordlessly, catching meaningful eye-contact with DG; he told her, without words, that arguing would not be in her best interest. He placed the paper package atop the bureau, where he took in the broken glass with disinterest.

"I'll get someone in here to clean this mess up, Highness," Jowan muttered gruffly, before leaving the room quickly. Brushing his shoulder against Zero's as he went, the old man was gone before DG had even the thought to speak with him... not that such a thing would have been possible in front of the ex-Longcoat hovering by the door.

DG pushed herself up off the bed, dizzy enough now to feel a little nauseous. "I'm not feeling up to dinner," she said, glaring hard at Zero with what energy she had left. She couldn't believe how draining hate could be.

"She ain't goin' anywhere," Cain reaffirmed.

Zero shook his head at Cain. "There isn't a choice to be had, Love," he said, directing his words at DG. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cain stiffen. "Your _Tin Man_," he added derisively, "can accompany all you like. Won't change anything." Zero nodded toward the package that had been dropped on the dresser-top. "Hurry up and get dressed. An Outlander doesn't like to be kept waiting."

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_Author's Note II: I hope against hope the next installment won't take me weeks. This story is draining the life out of me, but I'm similarly pleased at how its going, so... coming soon, a proposal, an interrogation, and... well, it isn't rated "M" for no reason. *wink*_


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

_Author's Note: (Does anyone read these?) This chapter is dedicated to all the _**Canadian** _Tin Man fans who found us after Space finally aired the miniseries. Welcome to our crazy fandom, my fellow Canucks!_

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**Chapter Twenty Eight**

Wyatt Cain stood with his back to the door. He found the Commander's rooms to be cold and unyielding, and he shifted, though he masked his discomfort with impatience. His presence in the Commander's chambers had been unwelcome to say the very least, but DG had stood her ground with the Outlander that towered more than a foot over her head. A bit amusing to see the girl puff her chest out, and more than a bit surprising to see the results she garnered. Cain had stood, at her discreet demand, at the door while she sat down to council with the Commander.

The growing list of _new allies_ was unsettling. Back in her room as he'd helped her dress, lacing the flimsy red frock together in the back for her, he'd laid it all out bare for her. Her only response was a weak smile as she'd peeped over her shoulder at him.

"The more you trust, the more you're openin' yourself up for someone to double cross you," he'd reminded her, tugging harder than necessary on the red ribbons as he tied the dress closed.

DG had frowned as she let her hair fall back into place. "He wants the Emerald when all this is over. I don't think he's going to betray us."

"Wasn't talkin' about the Outlander, surprisingly enough," Cain had snorted. They hadn't said any more; he'd wrenched the door open, feeling a static charge in his fingers as he grabbed the knob and shattered the spell she'd put up over the room. He'd asked – ordered – her to, not wanting Zero to overhear what might be said.

The ex-Longcoat waited for them in the hallway, quiet and contemplative. Walking side by side, Cain and DG followed Zero upstairs; DG seemed to know the way, but Cain certainly didn't. Every step taken brought him closer to a situation that had a bleak and foggy future. He didn't much like walking in blind, but the only thing he could do was keep his mouth shut and set store by his princess.

The Commander had been less than accommodating toward Cain's unexpected presence, but after the initial unpleasantries, his talks with DG had gone unhindered. Cain stood silently and listened, first as the Commander had inquired after DG's stay and the goings-on of the Zone, all of which Cain knew by the tone of the Commander's voice that the Outlander was aware of before asking; soon, the conversation had steered into the direction of the Emerald of the Eclipse.

Even from his rooted spot near the door, Cain could see the Commander's black eyes glitter greedily as talk of the object of his great desire came around. His jaw clenched on its own, bringing to clarity just how agitated mention of the Emerald made him. Cain's thoughts were tossed back momentarily, memories that DG herself had seen a mere hour before; racing through the Western Province with his princess, Outlanders close on their tails and the stone tucked away in DG's pocket.

But that had been an annual before... _funny, how fast things can change, _his thoughts murmured to him, taking on more meaning than just the blasted gemstone as his eyes fell over DG's back and tumbling curls, and all that had come to pass between them since.

DG was beginning to slump a bit in her chair as she finished explaining their best tactical plan to the Commander. Cain could hear in every inflection of her voice that the exhaustive drain from her spell-casting was catching up with her. With the meal served and finished, wine glasses topped off, Cain wasn't sure exactly how much more she planned on putting herself through.

"That may be the most foolhardy plan I've ever heard," the Commander said slowly, leaning back in his chair. Cain watched him carefully from the shadows at the periphery of the room; with her back turned to him, Cain wasn't able to see DG's face, only able to read the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin. Though she didn't remark upon the Commander's barb, Cain knew she was insulted and biting her tongue. She didn't much take kindly to questions of her capability, unless of course it was herself doing the questioning, and normally had some wit prepared for a reply. Now however, she stayed silent; there was a twinge of pride in his chest, and had the situation not been so dire, the stony expression on his face might have cracked for an instant into half a smile.

The Commander was waiting for some sort of snap or quip, but as soon as it became clear to him he couldn't coax a reaction out of her, he sighed. Sitting up straight again, chair groaning in loud protest under his weight, the Commander continued.

"Lets just say for a moment," the Commander mused, "that you're able to sneak the Emerald in, past the shield and right under Catticalisa's nose." Pushing himself out of his chair, he took long, measured steps around the table, speaking as he went. "Lets also say that you make it through the camp to the temple, this _magically-saturated_ place." He spit the words out with disdain as he paused by DG's chair, looking down upon her. Cain couldn't be sure if he'd ever seen the kid sit so still before. "Lets say you drain the magic out of the stone; extinguish it, destroy it, whatever your addled plan is. Lets say you've accomplished _everything_ you set out to do."

Cain knew the words to come before they'd left the Commander's rough lips, closing his eyes regretfully as the Outlander leaned down over his girl. When he opened them again, DG's head had fallen back and she was staring up at her aggressor, unafraid. Cain released a breath of relief. _Good girl._

"How exactly do you plan on getting _out_ of Deadwood Fall, Your Highness?"

DG hesitated, and Cain wondered if the Outlander had stumped her. The plan in his mind was as clear as any other they'd come up with – muddy at best. If they remained undetected through their activities in the forest, it might be possible to sneak out the way they'd entered. Dependent, of course, on which way Zero decided to lead them.

Leaving so much up to the Longcoat unnerved him to a point of near mental frenzy. Zero had locked him in the suit_ on orders,_ had hunted down his wife and son, had killed Adora before meting out a fate for Jeb so poetically similar to his own. As far as Cain's questioning and digging had ever been able to come up was that Adora's death was ordered by the Sorceress. Now, under new command, it was hard to assume what the cowardly Zero would do, or if he'd even agree to help them at all.

DG's quiet voice brought him crashing out of his thoughts. "We'll find a way."

The Commander chuckled. "I don't much like the risks you're taking with my Emerald, Pri-"

"Its not _your_ Emerald," DG interrupted him, a strong tone belying the fatigue in her shoulders. "The stone chose Dorothy Gale to be its Guardian. Her descendants are meant to be its Keepers." There was no mistaking her conviction, so much so that the Outlander stood straight again, halting his intimidation. In the dark near the door, Cain finally risked that half-smile.

"You've got amazing resolve, girl," the Commander muttered appraisingly. "I will allow you and your three men to leave tomorrow. The storm seems to finally be passing out of the Western mountains, and travel should not be too difficult. At least, not for those who stay on the road." Once again, those black eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Four men," DG spoke up. Cain shifted, drawing the Commander's attention to him for the briefest moment, a bare flick of the eyes. "There's still another matter that needs to be discussed."

The Commander turned back to DG, smiling menacingly. "The old man remains with me."

DG's shoulders fell, and behind her, Cain straightened, squared off his own shoulders. "I didn't mean Jowan," DG said softly, her voice about ready to crack. The Commander raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued falteringly. "I meant... your soldier, Zero. The man that waits outside the door."

The Commander shook his head. "He's a wanted man in the Zone. I doubt he'll take kindly to the notion of extradition."

From his place by the door, Cain finally spoke up. "Isn't extradition we're after," he said through clenched teeth, regretting every carefully chosen word that was forced past his tongue. "Just a way into the Forest, a guide with a little more leverage with the, uh... _locals._"

The Commander looked at Cain, quite unimpressed. He motioned for Cain to step forward with two fingers; leisurely, Cain did as he was bid, moving forward until he came into the dim circle of light cast by the fire. DG turned in her chair to look hopefully at him, blue eyes shimmering in the dancing light.

"Captain," the Commander said slowly. "Zero is my man now, and from what I know of recent history, as unlikely to help you are you would be to seek out his aid."

Cain smirked. "Seems likely as anythin' then, doesn't it?"

The Commander took a long moment to consider Cain before turning back to DG; he reached out and put his heavy hand on the back of her chair. DG stiffened, her chin snapping upward to stare at the Outlander making himself so comfortable at her side.

Cain shook his head slowly. "Zero will help us," he said confidently, an assurance he didn't feel in his heart. "A body in his position isn't likely to turn down the right offer; sure as shootin' its the right offer that kept the 'Coat here underground." The Commander stared hard at him, but Cain didn't stop his flapping tongue. "Slaves you keep under you, but your soldiers are here under employ. Might be Her Royal Highness pays better."

There was a soft exclamation of resentment out of DG over his use of her title, but he ignored her. His eyes were locked with the Commander's, and for all his recent memory he couldn't remember seeing a more blatant, malicious intent than in the black eyes of the Outlander before him. Holding his bearing as steadily as he ever had, Cain waited. He wasn't forced to wait long.

The Commander pushed himself away from DG's chair; she shifted uncomfortably, casting another look at Cain over her shoulder as the layers of crinoline under her skirt crinkled and swished. Walking to the fireplace, the Commander leaned a thick forearm on the mantel, watching the flames. A number of very long minutes passed before the Outlander spoke; his tones were as calm and careful as Cain had yet heard them.

"The raiding party that rescued you," he said, "also captured one of the Lady Catt's injured soldiers. Left for dead." Out of the corner of his eye, Cain saw DG shudder; the movement went unnoticed by the Commander, who continued unabated. "His knowledge on the witch's perimeters might be of some use to you. I leave it to you and Zero to glean the information from him." Another wicked glint overtook the Outlander's eyes, something Cain grew tired of seeing.

"As soon as the princess is escorted safely back to her room," Cain said with a curt jerk of his head.

"Yes," the Commander said with a nod. "The girl is dismissed."

DG hopped up from her chair, all flashes of red ribbon and white lace. The dress the Commander had given her sounded like water as she moved; as much as Cain liked seeing the garment cling to her beautifully rounded curves, he'd be glad if she left the frock behind.

The Commander walked resolutely over to DG, who turned her pale face up toward his. He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek; the princess did her best not to flinch, but Cain's fingers went reflexively to the holster that had been removed from his side upon entering the facility. Growling inwardly to himself, he held most of his baser instincts in check while the Outlander looked down upon the princess he'd captured so effectively.

From a distance of two or so feet, Cain could see her lips tremble as she glared up at the Commander. After the Outlander refused to speak, she pulled herself back, free of his grip. Whatever he'd looked for in her, whatever he'd desired to see, neither Cain or DG could be entirely sure, but both were left with a feeling of deep, cold dread; DG's, in the pit of her stomach, Cain's in the center of his chest.

"I suppose reminding you the stone would be safe-kept with me is senseless," the Commander said, soft and low; a tone Cain was surprised to hear coming out of any hardened son of the mountains. "Although," he continued, reaching out once again to DG, brushing the hair away from her face, behind her shoulder to expose her neck. "You never once struck me as a creature of sense." His fingers grazed her skin, and DG's mouth fell open in confusion. Cain himself felt a strange, barely containable anger boiling in his blood.

"No," DG whispered, transfixed by the touch on her skin. When the Commander's hand returned to her face, she was drawn back to the world in which Cain resided. She cleared her throat, and took a step back toward the Tin Man. "I'm more a fly by the seat of my pants girl. Always have been."

Cain's eyes left the Commander as he smirked at DG's back. He didn't think he'd ever heard a more apt description of his girl, and wasn't at all surprised the declaration had come from the princess herself.

The Commander noticed the palpable distance she'd put between them, that she'd stepped closer to where, and with whom she felt the safest. Sighing deeply, a more human sound than any to come out of the Outlander, the Commander went to the mantel, leaning against it with his back to DG.

"You'll leave before dawn," the Commander said, as much to the leaping flames as to the young woman behind him. "Do not expect my men to come to your aid should you meet trouble again. My scouts will continue to monitor the situation in Central City carefully."

Cain pressed his lips into a thin line; he didn't much like the idea of spies in the city, no matter how much DG now trusted the man who'd sent them. Cain himself couldn't seem to forget the kidnapping of the Queen Mother and Azkadellia an annual prior, finding himself a prisoner in an enemy fortress, or keeping both DG _and _the Emerald protected while trying to return the damned stone to its resting place. He wouldn't lower himself now to trust the Outlanders; all the faith that remained in his battered, weathered soul, he'd place in DG.

"Do not return to me without my Emerald, Princess," the Commander warned. "I'll likely kill you myself, I see your face again without it."

A powerful tremble overtook DG, and she whirled, skirts flying as she prepared to run, only to find herself staring squarely at Cain's chest. He put one hand on the small of her back to steady her, the other reached behind him to yank the door open. The girl wasn't exactly dazed, but there was something confused and not right about the look in her eyes. Without another glance at the hulking Outlander leaning over the fireplace, Cain ushered DG into the hall, ignoring Zero completely as he hurried DG back to her room.

Zero would follow, of that he was sure.

* * *

***

* * *

The cell was small and dark. There was no furniture in the room but for the rickety old chair to which the soldier had been bound. Bloody and beaten though he was, it didn't take Zero more than a moment to recognize the young man. One of the captain's under the Sorceress, he now served the Lady Catt, successor to the witch destroyed by the two little princesses atop the Tower.

Cain recognized him as well; the soldier Jowan had quite effectively dispatched of with the butte of his rifle. Replaying the scene in his mind, he wondered again at what, exactly, the old man's game was. He'd returned himself to slavery to help DG. Was that how he'd planned to play out his loyalty to the Gales all along?

With his head hanging, the Lady Catt's soldier let out a laugh which soon turned into a choking, congested cough. Spitting onto the floor, he slowly raised his head and his gaze focused on Zero. Cain wondered, standing near the doorway as he had done in the Commander's chambers, if the young soldier tied to the chair saw him at all.

"Lotta folks been wonderin' where you been, Zero," the soldier said grimly.

"Can't find myself caring about a 'lotta folks'," Zero replied. He stalked slowly toward the soldier, hands behind his back as if he were contemplating something very important. "Now, as for your boss..." He trailed off, pausing before barking a laugh.

"What, Azkadellia's pet lookin' for a new owner?" the soldier taunted. "Could be that Catt might not be takin' in strays, 'specially one as traitorous as the likes of you."

Zero snorted. From his place in the shadows, Cain raised an eyebrow, but said nothing; he remembered all too well the day before the Eclipse; Zero's reluctance to speak, Raw's inability to read him, and the eventual _'torture'_ that had led him to divulge the information that he had.

Leaning down over the chair, Zero said low, "Anything you'd care to tell us about the shield?"

The soldier was silent.

Cain decided to speak up. "Things'll probably go easier on ya, Kid, if you cooperate."

Silence greeted him, and Zero took two steps backward, toward the edge of the room where Cain remained in shadow. "Don't think that's likely to matter," Zero said with a sneer, making his voice clear to the soldier bound at the center of the room. "There's a pickaxe in the ruby mines with his name on it, regardless. Or there would be, if anyone underground ever takes the time to learn his name, which won't be happening."

"Shield is pure energy," said the soldier. Cain's eyes shot to him, surprised. There was a pitiful resignation in the soldier's voice; he knew he was long abandoned. When loyalty such as his was bought by the highest bidder, or when he put his muscle into backing the strongest contender, who was he but empty space when left alone? "No way to bring it down from the outside. Royal Army ain't gonna be able to do a damn thing about it."

"Royal Army isn't lookin' to do much at the moment," Cain said. Zero frowned, stood back in the darkest corner to pout at Cain's ability to get words from the soldier. Cain wasn't put off in the least. Subtle demands always seemed to work better than outright threats. "Is the Lady conjurin' the shield with magic?"

The soldier snorted, rolling his eyes at Cain. "Don't know much 'bout magic my own self, but I doubt there's any witch in the world could produce a spell big as that. Daughters of Light are the only ones with power like that, ain't they?"

"What creates the shield?" Cain asked again.

The soldier sucked on his teeth a moment, hesitant to speak. When Cain grew impatient, and made to move out of the shadows toward the chair, the soldier piped up in uncertain tones, "What's this talk about ruby mines?"

"Outlanders got plans for you. They've got a habit of takin' slaves," Cain said. "Doesn't seem to matter where or when they find 'em. Looks like the mines are the end of the line for you. A little abetment might see that you don't reach it too fast."

Heaving a defeated sigh, the soldier looked toward the silhouette Cain's imposing form created. Skulking in the dark corner, Zero had all but disappeared. "There's a machine that generates the shield," the soldier said. "Control box is in the ruined gatehouse at Shadow's Passage. All traffic moves through the gate."

_Shadow's Passage_... though Cain had never heard of the location, it had an ominous ring to it. "There any way through the shield without goin' through the gate?"

The soldier shook his head, but it was a faltering gesture, as if he weren't exactly sure of it. With a frown, Cain growled, "Hurry it up, Kid. There's a man in this corner here who wouldn't mind gettin' a chunk of flesh outta this." The soldier's eyes flicked to the corner Zero had retreated to, before returning back to Cain.

"There might be a way," the soldier said quickly. "Can't go over it, can't go _through_ it. Don't know about _under_ it. Tunnel networks through the entire Southern Province, might be that one or two lead under the shield into the base. Don't exactly know myself."

"If there were, it seems somethin' the Lady would be well aware of," Cain said.

"No doubt of that, there."

Cain didn't like it, not that it was a new feeling when it came to the entire adventure... or much of anything since DG had released him from the suit. More and more, it was seeming as if the only way into the temple at Deadwood Fall was straight through the Longcoat camp, and the only entrance was right through the heavily-fortified front door. _If_ there were tunnels that led under the shield, the Lady Catt would be a fool not to have them collapsed, or at least patrolled regularly.

Cain had no intention of dying. He just didn't exactly know how he was going to get DG and the Emerald into the camp and out again alive.

After realizing there wasn't much more the soldier was going to offer him – he was a minion with little information other than the basic layout of the camp, the guard rotations, and the name of an informant in a village called Byvasser that might be of some use – Cain left the room with Zero close on his heels. He stalked down the hall toward the stairwell without so much as turning around, but once he'd rounded a corner, he whirled and caught Zero by the collar, hauling him into an alcove and shoving him hard against a wall.

Zero grunted, struggling minimally against Cain's grip. This barely concerned the Tin Man, as he stared into the grey eyes of the man who had murdered his wife and probably a dozen others, almost gleefully carrying out his orders with a sadism that gave Cain a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Didn't know you liked to dance, Cain," Zero plagued him.

Without a sound, Cain tightened his grip on the collar of Zero's uniform. Jerking him forward mere inches, Cain slammed him against the wall again, and the back of Zero's head bounced off the cement. "You're her key into Deadwood," he stated.

Zero's eyes widened slightly, but he kept his lips pursed tightly. The men stared each other down, neither speaking. Cain saw something in Zero that unnerved him, a clarity that confirmed his suspicion that Zero had been expecting as much from them. How or why, Cain couldn't be sure. Gods help him, if he had any other option he'd grab those under his care – DG, Raw, Hass – and turn tail as fast as his legs would take him. But DG was so damned determined to carry out the venturesome task given to her by the spirit of a woman that should long have set over the Shifting Sands into the next world.

A part of him knew that had the spectre of his deceased wife appeared to him begging for help, not a thing under the suns could have stopped him from attempting to fulfil her wishes. But Adora was dear to his heart, a close a part of him as anything... an ancestress dead for almost a century didn't quite register the same in his mind.

Zero finally began to push Cain away, and Cain allowed the movement, though he stayed menacingly close. "You're going to help us," Cain said firmly. "You'll lead us to the Black Forest."

"I sense an 'or else' coming," Zero said nonchalantly. Cain wouldn't have been surprised if the ex-Longcoat had forced a yawn for dramatic effect.

"You know the Commander'd hand you over easy as anythin' to get his paws on that stone," Cain said; the quickest tremble in Zero's solid expression told Cain he was absolutely right. "Royal Army's spent a lot of time and platinum tryin' to track you down. A public execution of the Sorceress' general would bolster the country's spirit, don'tcha think? Captured war criminals make for good headlines down in Central Province."

Zero looked skeptical, and Cain almost laughed, harshly and without regret. "Oh, you think someone'd step forward for you? Maybe that Az wouldn't let you hang?" Zero said nothing, and Cain continued forbiddingly. "You help DG get done what she asks of you and you can disappear again. I can guarantee the shadow of the royal army'd never darken your doorway again."

"I'm not about to babysit a princess," Zero snapped back, "nor am I going to save your hide should it come down to that. The Lady Catt would likely have you shot dead on sight."

"Seems like that'll be my concern."

If he was considering Cain's offer, it didn't take him long. Zero pushed Cain away from him before straightening his collar and the buttons of his uniform jacket. "You're gonna get yourself killed, Cain."

Cain growled. "Not seein' where that affects you. You gonna help her?"

"And I'm not _helpin'_ you?" Zero taunted. Cain was silent, biting back words that would not help the situation. After a moment of steely glaring, Zero frowned, and nodded. "I'll get her into the Forest," Zero said, "and past the shield into the Fall. After that, the brat's on her own. Seems to me I'm going to have my own neck to look out for once inside."

Cain nodded, but said nothing. He'd have both eyes on Zero the whole time, waiting for treachery. Creatures such as him didn't change over time. So Cain would do what he could to make sure things didn't go sour. The rest was up to DG.

* * *

***

* * *

In the small room given her, DG sat on the edge of the bed staring at the door. Her own clothes had been returned to her and were folded neatly on the dresser-top; the pieces of broken mirror had been cleaned up, and the frame now stood empty, reminding her of the words the reflection had spoken. When she tried to focus on just that, what had been said, everything that had _ever_ been said by the girl in the mirror, all DG could think of was not the girl telling her to seek out the help of Zero, nor that she was close to her goal, but the words that had sent her flying on this whirlwind path in the first place.

"_When the blood of one is the death of another, the time to begin will have come."_

Thoughts of Azkadellia ran rampant throughout her brain, the pain in her sister's eyes the night she'd miscarried, the blood on the sheets, the death of a child that would have been heir to a beautiful, albeit still sort of broken, kingdom. And the _more_ DG thought about it, the more disconcerted about it she became.

If Zero agreed to help them... _if_ he agreed, they'd head straight for the Gale tomb, which rested a day and a half's ride, South by Southwest. After retrieving the Emerald, they'd make their way across the countryside to the Black Forest, though how long that would take, exactly, DG couldn't be sure. As far as their discussions and planning had gone, Cain had been unwilling to make any commitments or draw up a route without knowing which direction the wind was about to blow them.

Zero's participation would mean a hard gust at their backs. They'd _have_ to make a choice.

Falling onto her back on the bed, the bodice of the red gown given to her by the Commander pulling down to expose more of her chest, the tops of her breasts, DG put an arm over her eyes, shielding out the dim illumination cast by the kerosene lamp on the table. She waited; she waited for news, for a plan.

She dozed off... dreams haunted the edge of her consciousness, for she was not truly asleep. Faces and images seemed to rise up and up and up until they'd gone out of her line of vision... Glitch's wild dreads, then the painted burlap face of a scarecrow on a post... Cain's lips turned down in a frown, followed by a knife-slash through a dented tin face, only hinting at what a mouth should be... Raw's untameable mane, then the stubbled chin of the lion-turned-man as he glowered unkindly... and _her_, the princess in the mirror, hand against invisible glass, mouthing soundlessly a plea of...

The door opened, and DG startled awake. Sitting up, her skirt making an incredible racket in the silence of her cell, her eyes fell on Cain as he closed the door behind him and locked it. Jumping up, she crossed the room in a few strides, extending her arm to touch the wood of the door. It glowed momentarily as the magic passed out of her before going dead and cold again, just a door but sealed tight.

"There," she said quietly. "Now nothing short of a battering ram is getting anyone through that door without my say-so." She looked up at Cain, expecting that odd half smile, but instead only saw that he refused to meet her eyes. "Did it not go well?" she asked, her brain cursing her the minute the words had fallen past her lips.

_Did you really expect it to go well, Princess?, _a nasty little voice inside her head queried._ You just sent him begging for help from the man who murdered his wife on your sister's orders._

When Cain didn't speak, and his eyes fell onto the shifted neckline of her dress instead of her face, a faint whisper of a voice countered the first. _You didn't _send_ him. He said he was going, and you couldn't have argued him out of it._

_You could've tried._

"You done yet, Deeg?"

DG felt a blush rising to her cheeks. She risked another look up at him; he finally allowed their eyes to meet. "Heard that, huh?" she asked; why had she wanted to meet his penetrating blue stare? He could see straight into her, read everything; the fact that she was so nervous that she'd allowed her thoughts to slip out audibly into his mind was almost superfluous.

"Hard not to," he said simply. "You seem a mite flustered."

DG smiled weakly, and went to him; if he was surprised by the suddenness in which she turned into his embrace, he didn't show it. Cain's arms went about her as casually as if he'd invited her there. He wore no vest, and she could feel the warmth of his body against her cheek through the thin material of his shirt. Turning her head ever so slightly until the tip of her nose grazed his chest, she pressed her lips to the warmth of him, and felt him immediately stiffen.

"Tell me what happened," she said, kissing him again. With the softest exclamation of protest, he let his hands run down her back, over the lacings of the gown, to rest on the swell of her bottom, lost under the layers of skirt.

"Can't say a lot you weren't expectin'," he told her, though he was careful, very careful, with his words. "We leave come sunsrise; Zero will ride with us as far as the Black Forest. He's pushin' for us to make one stop along the way. Once we're past the shield, we're on our own."

Though her mind registered _'make one stop along the way', _she let it slide as she focused on what worried her more."How do we pass the shield?" She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his Adam's apple, and he let his head fall back minutely to allow her the access. His hands raised mere inches so that he could grip her waist, find a better hold.

"Not too sure of that just yet," he said, and she could hear him smirking. She wondered momentarily how she could hear his expression in his voice, but came quickly to the conclusion that perhaps things went both ways, perhaps she knew him as well as he knew her. He cleared his throat to refocus his own thoughts. "Can't plan our strategy until we know exactly what it is we're dealin' with."

"So we run until we can figure out our next move," she said, as matter-of-factly as she could.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled her snug against him, tightening his arms around her until there was barely room to move or breathe. The heat of him passed into her, and she felt a little dizzy, slightly giddy. "Darlin'," he murmured into her hair.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, shaking her head. "Don't want to talk any more, Tin Man," she said, closing her eyes; she didn't want to open them and see where they were, trapped underground outside their homeland, the place she was coming to know more and more every day as _home. _ Out here, under the fatal sands of the desert, he was the closest thing she had to home, and she knew deep inside she wouldn't be letting go until it was time for them to leave the barracks.

Cain sensed it too, the shift in her that strengthened her hold, that caused her to nuzzle her face into his neck. She searched for the safety she had always instinctively known rested with him. He always told her that she trusted too easily, was too blindly faithful; she couldn't have disagreed with him more, but she knew he didn't truly believe his own criticisms of her.

"You ready for this?"

DG smiled into his skin, feeling straight down her body every place where he pressed against her; the molding of his arms against her back, the angled planes of his chest against the soft, small curves of her own, his heartbeat strong and steady in her ear.

"Ready for which part?" she asked, leaning back slightly; he loosed his grip to allow this of her. "Hiding from Catt, protecting the Emerald, or waiting for Zero to inevitably stab us in the back?"

Cain chuckled, a sound so rare that it picked up her spirits despite all the dark things she'd just listed for their immediate future. "Sounds like you've got your bearings straight," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. She tilted her head back to properly see his face, and the barest suggestion of a smile on his lips had her desiring to kiss him, so she did. Pushing up on her toes, she touched her lips to his.

A soft sigh escaped the Tin Man as one hand left her back to hold her jaw, to angle her face as he saw fit as he deepened the kiss with his tongue, opening her mouth under his. Her hands mirrored his, holding the sides of his face to stop him from pulling away, unknowing that he never could, that he drew his very breath from deep within her. His hold on her waist slackened as he focused on their mouths. The slick touch of his tongue pried and coaxed at her, until she pushed up harder, eagerly seeking more. Beneath the constant movement of their kiss, Cain inhaled deeply.

DG broke away from him, sliding her lips down his jaw, rough and unshaven. Her hands, on a mission of their own, left his face to drag slowly to his chest, tugging at the small buttons of his shirt; the cotton was pliant in her hands, the thin metal buttons cold and easily worked through their holes. She knew what she wanted, and though her actions conveyed her longing, she knew that her blunt honesty would help things along. Lowering down once again to the flats of her feet, she whispered into his collar. "Take me to bed. I don't want to sleep alone tonight."

She finished unbuttoning the shirt and parted the material, pushing it back a little on his shoulders to give her full access to his chest. If his skin were more heated than it had been when he'd come to her, she couldn't tell for the warm nervousness in her own fingertips. He hadn't stepped away from her, had allowed her to undress him; his breathing had quickened, chest heaving ever so slightly under her attention. Her fingers traced the lines on his skin, the ridges of scars, thumbs teasing over his pectoral muscles scattered with bristly hair.

"Might be the last time for quite a while, Darlin'," he said quietly; a warning.

Eyes wide, she looked up into the stormy depths of him. It already _had _been awhile. "I know."

A groan escaped him, perhaps one of defeat or maybe one of acceptance, as he yanked her against his body, his mouth finding hers this time. Her skirt was crushed between them as she held fast to his sides, anchoring herself upright as she opened beneath him, allowing him to overtake her. With one hand threading its way into the hair at the base of her neck, his other swept down her back to the lacings of the borrowed gown, tugging at them until they came undone and she felt the bodice loosen around her.

Humming her pleasure beneath his kiss, she returned her hands to his shoulders, pushing his shirt off him completely; his hands left her momentarily to shrug the garment off. It fell noiselessly to the floor, abandoned. His sure fingers worked beneath the gauzy material that held the dress over her shoulders, sliding the thick straps down over the curve of her shoulder. She heard and felt the scrape of the straps on her skin; his thumbs massaged the exposed flesh before moving on. He tore his mouth from hers to tease her neck with his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

DG's mind was beginning to fog up beyond her ability to reason, and she was quite certain she could climb up him like a tree or drag him to the floor to have him right there. "Wyatt," she whispered as his hand found her breast over the gown. Spiralling out of control quickly, she wanted to at least make it to the bed, to shed the dress and reach the safety of the blankets. Disentangling herself from him, she turned and walked to the bed; with her back to him, she shimmied out of the dress until it heaped at her feet. She stood ankle deep in a pile of silk and lace, hair tumbling down her back, her underwear the only thing between her and complete nudity.

She waited. She could hear Cain's heavy breathing, could hear the hesitation in every second that passed. For a horrible moment, she feared that he might change his mind, and her heart nearly stopped when she heard him approach her. His big hands went to her arms, dragging heavily as he swept down to her very fingertips; shifting his trajectory, his hands slid to her waist. Fingers hooked into her panties and he pulled them down her legs, pressing kisses to the small of her back as he knelt. The tip of his nose brushed over the swell of her bottom, teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh and she yelped quietly.

A rumble passed through him, akin to a laugh. "Get on the bed," he commanded lightly, and she listened without reservation, pulling the blankets back and situating herself between the sheets. She heard the clink of his belt as he worked the buckle, and her eyes shot over her shoulder to the sight of him purposefully removing the article. Shuddering inwardly, she sat with her knees pulled to her chest, arms twined about her naked self as she watched him join her in nudity. His pants and shorts removed, he put one knee on the edge of the mattress, reached out to take her by the ankle, and dragged her toward him with one hard yank.

Leaning over her, Cain pushed her onto her back as he climbed fully onto the bed, attacking her neck with his lips. Moving lower as she writhed, he kept one hand firmly on her hip, holding her in place; the other arm braced himself to keep most of his weight off her. He lay twisted beside her, a supportive knee between her legs; his mouth moved ruthlessly, restlessly on her skin, tracing her collarbone and lower. His fingers on her hip flexed rhythmically, out of sync with the caress of his mouth as he pressed his lips firmly to the tops of her breasts, first one then the other.

Impatient, she moved her hands from their position above her head; placing one on his bicep, she reached down and wrapped the other around his erection, trapped between them. With a sharp hiss between his teeth, his mouth left her as his head fell to her shoulder, and more of his weight slumped over her.

"Playin' with fire there," he huffed low into her skin.

DG couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up as she stroked him. "I wasn't already?"

A growl escaped him that put her slightly on edge; before she could react or draw breath, he was over her completely, rolling his body to fit between her thighs and she had no choice but to spread her legs farther to admit him. Forced to let go of his length, she found her hands being pulled up and over her head, both wrists easily caught in one of his large hands. A warm, enveloping wave of lust, love, washed over her; desire won out as his free hand drifted between her legs to test her, a single finger slipping between her folds.

"You're so wet," he muttered appreciatively, breath and words tickling her neck. She felt a smug grin come over her features, but it was wiped away as he positioned himself and pressed deep into her. Biting back a moan, she tilted her hips to take him deeper still, causing him to groan and curse above her. His eyes, tormented with restraint and control, fell upon hers.

"Love you," she whispered, wanting to take his face between her hands, but she didn't fight against his hold on her wrists. Craning her neck instead, she kissed the nearest part of him she could, the underside of his stubbled chin. She felt him throb within her, stretching her even more as his hips rocked once, pushing to the deepest, safest place. Her insides quivered, and he gasped.

"That close?" he asked, voice gravelly as he raised an eyebrow. When she clenched around him, purposely this time, his eyes rolled slightly, and he leaned down to claim her mouth. "Love you, too," he whispered, rocking his hips firmly again, his pelvis pressing hard against her center.

DG broke apart then, completely overthrown by the quickness of it, the unexpected rush, the sparks of hot pleasure. Her back arched and her legs clamped about his waist. Cain stayed still and settled over top of her until the shaking stopped and her body stopped clenching around him.

Finally, he let go of her wrists and began to move. Twining her arms around his neck, she held him close as she moved with him, her sensitive core brushing against him until she was whimpering again. His eyes were on her, drinking in every nuance of expression that fluttered across her features as he rode her. Reaching out, he grabbed the metal bed-frame to help increase the power of his thrusts. DG's small hands went to his hips to urge on his quickened pace; burying himself to the hilt again and again, his gaze fell to watch himself disappear into the tightness of her body. Struggling to keep his grasp over himself until she came again, his white-knuckled grip on the iron frame strengthened painfully.

Underneath of him, she felt herself spinning up and out of control again. Her fingernails dug into his skin as he pumped into her, a grunt of surprise escaping him as she tumbled head-first into orgasm. Her head went back, exposing the pale column of her throat; a soundless word fell out of her sweet mouth, possibly his name but he was too long gone to think on it too much. With a growl, he felt his release surge through him; letting go of the bedstead, he gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises to stop her undulating hips from moving as he spilled himself inside her.

Panting, they collapsed into each other. Cain rolled onto his side, trapping her leg still wrapped about him between his body and the mattress; he reached down to pull a blanket over them.

DG felt dizzy, spent and tired. The scent of their sex surrounded them, mingled with their individual sweat. Curling into him, she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply until her breathing calmed. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, she knew there was still conversation that needed to take place, plans that needed to be made... all of it could wait until morning.

For now, she stayed in the shelter of his arms, whispering kindly in his ear and waiting for sleep to claim her.

* * *

***

* * *

Far above the city, Queen Azkadellia in her tower slept, but down on the grounds, a shadowed figure slipped through the gates; the palace guards, noticing the movement, nodded in farewell as he reached the street and walked toward the edges of the city.

It was unseasonably cold. He muttered to himself as he navigated the streets, rounding corners and cutting through alleys with a precision that would have surprised those that knew him. With unfailing perseverance, he reached the gates of the city and covertly passed out of city limits.

As he started down the Brick Route, he began to talk to himself, trying to convince himself this was the right course of action. Aww, _hell_, it was the _only_ course of action. There were tiny parts of himself that said this was foolish, stupid, and downright dangerous. That he had every reason to turn around and head back to the safety of Alta Toretta.

"You're not gonna let a thing like incredible danger stop you, are you?" he goaded himself.

No... incredible danger wasn't about to stop him.

Shrugging his pack a little snugger onto his shoulders, and tugging his brown knit cap farther down over his ears, he put his head down against the wind. Standing around talking to himself wasn't about to get him anywhere. He had a destination to get to, and not very long to reach it.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Chapter Twenty Nine**

_The old wizard's face was weary, but his lips held a friendly smile. He didn't look at her directly as she approached; he only stared up at the immense machine that took up a good portion of the wall. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his trousers, and oh, how he did stare at the machine. He didn't push buttons, he didn't turn cranks, or handle the gear-shifts with an adeptness that resembled ballet... still, and staring, he waited for her to take in the entirety of the contraption before speaking._

"_I know why you have come," the old man said. "What is your name, child?"_

_It didn't perturb her in the slightest to realize she wasn't exactly sure how to answer that question. Being asked your name should come as easy as breathing, shouldn't it? "I don't know if I remember," she said, which was not entirely true. She remembered, but she wasn't sure that it was _right_, and she would be so embarrassed to give the wrong answer to such a simple question._

_The old wizard turned to smile at her. "The small and meek."_

_Glancing back up at the many dials and gauges in front of her, she nodded. "Something like that."_

_The wizard's blue eyes shone sadly at her when she turned her head to risk a glance at him. "Do you know who I am?"_

_She glanced behind her to the heavy, dark draperies that closed the cubicle off; they were thrown wide open, bearing no false witness. "You're the man behind the curtain," she said slowly. This didn't disappoint her as much as she thought it might; indeed, she braced herself for the let-down, only to be surprised at the complete... lack of reaction. _

_His smile returned, infinitely tired. "You walked far to reach me. Met many people, saw many things."_

"_I'm very tired," she said slowly, turning to study the machine again. Looking a little closer, she noticed the panels were dusty, that the glass-fronted gauges were coated with many annuals worth of grime. "I've followed every inch of the Old Road. I've seen every sight."_

_The old wizard shook his head. "Not every sight. Not every inch. Spans, my dear, you've yet to see."_

_With a sigh, she turned away from the machine completely, away from the gleaming copper switches, the brass tooling, and toward the great hall, the marble floors, the open, empty, windowless space. Recluse, hermit, old man hiding where no one may enter. He shut out the world, but the world still went on._

"_It was just a piece of paper, just a tin clock, just a bit of junky jewelry," he told her; her head snapped toward him, trying to make sense of his words. He held up a black velvet satchet, big enough to hold a pocket-watch, or a bottle of perfume._

"_There was nothing in the bag for you, my dear," he said, and handed her the draw-string satchet. True to his word, it was completely empty. A part of her wished for her every desired answer to fall out into her palm. The old wizard caught the disappointment in her eyes and gave her an encouraging smile._

"_You've had it with you all along," he told her. _

_She nodded as if she understood, and in truth, she sort of did. "I shouldn't doubt myself."_

"_Never for a moment. Your doubts can beat you as surely as your enemies can. Purity of Light flows through you unfalteringly. Don't disrupt it by assuming you're anything but a channel," he said very carefully, keeping his eyes trained on hers to make sure she didn't miss a single word. "The magic will do as it will. Hold on, keep it grounded. Got that?"_

She awoke abruptly then, half-sitting up as her body jerked to consciousness. It was completely dark; feeling around, she found the other side of the bed empty and cold. Lowering herself back to the mattress, she waved a hand in the direction of the bedside lamp; a flame flared at the soaked wick-tip.

Struggling to bring back the pieces of her dream, DG put her hands over her face.

_'Hold on, keep it grounded. Got that?'_

"Yeah, got it," she whispered groggily to herself. Sleep had claimed her while still in Cain's arms, and he'd slipped away from her sometime while she slept. She couldn't blame him. They were both eager to get back onto the road, to be reunited with their companions and be out from under the Commander's oppressive thumb.

No more running around, no more confusion. Every forward step taken was a step closer to the meaning of all this. Ridding herself of the Emerald, being able to stop running, stop fighting, and just live her life.

She climbed out of bed and braved the cold floor. She tugged on her own clothes, pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Someone was coming for her, something inside told her to stay put. Unable to just sit, she made the bed, and laid out the dress the Commander had sent her. It struck her curiously as she studied the frock... she'd seen it somewhere before. Before it had been sent. She just didn't know where.

A knock on the door. Nearly jumping, she hurried over and almost cried out in relief at the sight of Hass. She restrained herself – just barely – from hugging him. He noticed, and gave her a grateful smile. "Ready to get out of here and hit topside?" he asked her, as if they spent days upon days underground all the time.

"Definitely," she said, already pulling on her wool coat and turning up its collar. "Are the others waiting for us?"

"We're to meet them at the surface," Hass told her as he held the door open, and they escaped the quiet of her room without once looking back. Nothing there was hers but for the clothes on her body and the tiny band on her finger. All her other possessions were buried under the snow somewhere along the road. "Captain seemed to be in a bit of a hurry," Hass added, breaking into her self-absorbed thoughts.

"I should have gotten up sooner," she said, cursing herself silently for dreaming. "We could be on the road by now."

"Naw, the captain seemed to think it best if you were left to sleep for a while," Hass said; something in his voice piqued her curiosity, and when she turned to look at him, he gave her a rueful grin. They said no more for quite a while, as the hallways were not void of traffic, slaves and soldiers alike busy despite the early, early hour. Hass navigated their way through the corridors and DG stayed close behind him. When finally they reached a thick, metal door, she glanced at him, impressed. "I've got a good sense of direction," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, making her laugh.

The door read, _Surface Access._ DG had to admit, she hadn't seen two more welcome words in quite some time. Opened, the door led to a hall on a gradual incline, one that steepened ever so slightly with every turn in the passage.

"So," Hass said conversationally, after they'd walked in silence for a while. "Is someone going to explain to me why we're taking on a wanted criminal as our guide, or am I just taking it on good faith that he's not going to kill each and every one of us in our sleep?"

DG frowned. His tone was knife-sharp by the time he'd finished. "I don't think Cain will be sleeping much," she said offhandedly, not sure where she was supposed to begin explaining. _Not only am I seeing things in the mirror, I'm hearing things. The voice told me that Zero would lead the way._

"Makes two of us," Hass said.

As they continued on, she slowly grew winded. The narrow passageway seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning, and she finally called for him to stop, her voice bouncing loudly off the high walls. Deciding on a point, she began. "All right... you know the face that's been appearing to me in the mirror?" _Oh, that sounds insane,_ she thought unhappily. Hass nodded, his face still. Sighing, she said, "_She_... whoever she is, Lost Princess or not, said Zero is the one meant to help us, not the Commander."

"And what, exactly, is he meant to _help_ us do?"

DG shrugged. "I've got no idea. We're going to have to see what happens."

"That's a very vague plan," he said with a sad shake of his head. "And even with the _vague_ plan of vagueness, I don't quite see how we're going to move across the entire country undetected. A wanted criminal, a princess, a Viewer, and two AR soldiers, we're going to attract someone's attention. That book the Lady Catt's got..."

"I'm hoping I might have fogged up the glass a bit on that one," she said, offering him a smile, a real smile.

"You sure do sound confident," Hass said approvingly. He pushed away from the wall. "You think that confidence is gonna see us through?"

DG shrugged her shoulders, taking in the long, dimly lit corridor that stretched out ahead of them. "That and a bit of luck," she said, and she felt the smile on her lips begin to falter. "We've been in worse scrapes than this before. I think we'll handle it easily."

Glancing around, she didn't let on at how anxious she became to see there was no wood to knock on.

An hour passed, and then most of a second. The air grew chiller, but also cleared; their breath appeared before them in visible puffs. The quality of light began to shift, and the passageway split. Voices could be heard in the corridor that forked to the right, familiar voices that caused both her feet and Hass' to speed up.

Raw was smiling at her the moment she appeared in the doorway, but she barely noticed him as her eyes drank in the long drivebay, flanked on both sides by stalls of all sizes. At the far end was a heavy wooden door set on gigantic, rusted hinges; in the two stalls nearest to the doors were transport trucks, ancient and dismantled to varying degrees.

Immediately interested, DG wanted to go down and peek at the trucks, but Cain came up behind her before she took off running. "You ready to start this?" She turned to him, at a loss for a moment before she noticed him nod toward the horses that were saddled and ready – their own beasts, stabled by the Commander, taken care of and ready for departure.

"I guess I've got no choice, do I?" She meant it as a joke, but there was a weight to the words that caused something inside of her to sink.

Cain chose to move past what she'd said without comment. "Four of us will ride," he said; it took her mind a moment to work out that he meant Hass to scout by air. "Longcoat seems to think he's callin' the shots. He's got a mind to stop for the night at Fog's Bank."

DG's brow furrowed, her blue eyes turning to his. "Fog's Bank? Where is –"

"Little village between here and the stone. Not but a few hours outta the way."

"Is it okay? I mean..." She lowered her voice. "Is it safe?"

Cain shifted uneasily on his feet. "Could be worth the risk of entering a civilized area. Sleep on a bed instead of the ground."

An image of the night before flashed through her mind, and she felt her cheeks grow hot. "Well, I can't say no to a bed," she murmured. She reached out to run a finger along the cross-strap of his gun-belt, returned to him by the Commander's men. The gesture, seemingly too intimate in front of present company – she looked around, and only Raw was watching from the corner of his eye – made Cain uncomfortable. Retracting her hand, she offered him a hopeful smile. "What do you think of the 'Coat's plan, Captain?"

"It'll be a hard day's travel to reach Fog's Bank," he said, but there was no definitiveness in his words. "It'll be after dark, so let's get a move on."

With a quirk to the corner of his mouth, and a gentle touch on the shoulder – and if his hand lingered over long, she didn't call attention to it, not wanting to push him away – Cain directed her toward Juniper, who looked passively at DG. Scratching the mare behind the ears for a moment, DG twisted her head to see Zero watching Cain warily.

A shudder went through her, and she forced herself to look away.

* * *

***

* * *

Ambrose was flustered and moody all morning, and he couldn't quite put a finger on _why_. There was nothing out of place in his office, there were no mysteriously appeared objects – brought in by him when he wasn't paying attention – cluttering his desk. By lunch time, all his work was done. He just couldn't think as to _why_ he felt like something was amiss.

It was almost two in the afternoon by the time he realized that he hadn't seen Tory since the night before.

Ambrose checked everywhere he thought the boy might be. The suite on the thirtieth level assigned to him was empty. The bed hadn't been slept in, though the covers were rumpled enough to give the impression that someone had lain upon them.

The boy wasn't in the library. Nor was he in the portrait gallery, or the kitchens, the arboretum, or the parlour with the windows overlooking Gale Square that he'd taken a liking to.

Frantic searching was turning up absolutely nothing, and Ambrose grew not only frustrated, but a tad worried. Alta Torretta in its glory, its beauty, its hundreds of hallways and dozens upon dozens of rooms, was too much for him to handle himself. It didn't comfort him in the slightest that he was looking for something he himself hadn't misplaced. For once.

There would be no alerting the guards to the missing teenager he was trying to keep swept under the rug as much as possible. Absolutely _batty_ of him to try and bother the Queen with such matters – though, Azkadellia had taken a strange liking to the boy and would want to know he was missing.

Ambrose pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and put his mind to tracking the kid down while putting in the least amount of physical effort. Searching the palace room by room, needle in a haystack, impossible odds...

What if the kid wasn't _in_ the palace? Not in a single one of the sprawling rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a city spread out and tangled in and out of itself. What if the kid had gone _through _the gates, out into the city itself? To explore, to search, to breathe, to...

Ambrose tried to walk slowly down to the floors designated to security, he walked uncomfortably by Cain's new office, dark and uninhabited.

In the right office, with the right words to the right person, Ambrose had the roster in his hands, the guard rotations for the front gate. Most of the security personnel that served the palace lived on-site, and within minutes the advisor was knocking on the closed door of the guard who'd worked the night-shift.

The young man answered the door bleary-eyed and shirtless, holding his pants closed.

"Uh, hello, sir," the young man said, his eyes widening in surprise. "Can I, uh... I mean..."

Ambrose looked away politely as the soldier buttoned his fly. Clearing his throat, he said, "You were on the front gate last night, weren't you?"

The soldier nodded hurriedly. "Yessir," he said, head bobbing. "Twelve hours, off-duty at oh-six-hundred."

"I'm curious if you saw anyone leave the grounds."

The soldier smiled slightly. "Lots of people, sir. Anyone in particular you're thinking of?"

Ambrose shook his head, an absent and distracted gesture. The wheels in his mind turned, cogs and springs all squeak and groan. "How about late night traffic. After the suns set." He made sure not to ask a direct question. He didn't like secrets. Outright lying he could manage without blinking, after so many annuals at court and at Her Majesty's side through the annuals following DG's 'death' and Azkadellia's plotting and eventual takeover and _then_ out in the countryside trying to eke out some sort of survival, those nine annuals that could barely be considered _existing._

"No, nothing out of the – well, there was a... now what was it?" The young man looked genuinely confused, eyes raising in thought, staring at nothing. "It was a boy – young man."

Ambrose tried his best to look as though he thought this fact was odd, giving the guardsman a perfect _'Huh,' _expression. "You didn't stop him to identify him?"

The trick of light in the guardsman's eyes shifted so quickly, Ambrose almost didn't catch it. And, indeed, if he'd never had such an effect explained to him by Tutor, he might not have noticed it at all. Just a faint shimmer of fading magic, no harm it it really... but for the fact that a palace guard had been touched by some sort of spell.

"No, didn't seem necessary," the young man said.

Ambrose refrained from grabbing the man by the shoulders and shaking him, for it seemed a very pointless, panicky thing to do. He also stopped himself from firing the man on the spot – not that it was even in his power to do so without the proper paperwork filed.

_No wonder DG managed to sneak out of this place so many times, _Ambrose thought bitterly to himself. He'd make sure to launch a full inquiry into perimeter security, as soon as he could find some underling to unload the task onto.

He'd left the guardsman standing in his door-frame, turning around too fast to see the young man's mouth gaping open after him. His mind didn't register the sound of the dormitory door shutting as he hit the end of the hallway.

There'd be no reprimand for the young guardsman. Most in the O.Z. were utterly defenceless against magic, and the guard had had a spell worked over him, it didn't take even half-a-brain to figure that out. There was no worrying now about _why_ Tory had gone. The question was _who_ had helped him get past the guard.

Ambrose needed to speak with the Queen.

* * *

***

* * *

Jeb's hands were calloused and blistered. His hair was grimy and sweaty, and the fragrance of the damned red flowers that covered the temple grounds was beginning to give him a headache. He and Travers took turns with the axe, but as Travers had gone off on a supply run and Jeb had been left alone, he took the few minutes of reprieve as actual _reprieve_, leaning against the tree he'd only begun chopping at, and watching the grounds with a lazy eye.

There were red flowers _everywhere, _big-petalled heads on thin, tiny necks. Growing without sunslight, without encouragement. Wherever the damn things could take root, take root they did. The men clearing the grounds had long given up on trying to win that battle, instead focusing on the saplings that seemed to want to come up at a rivalled pace.

Under the carpet of flowers was an ancient section of Brick Route, the same arm that led straight through the camp and right up to the sealed doors of the temple. Though, one would never be able to tell, the flowers grew so abundantly as to hide the thin, winding section of brick.

It was as his eyes followed this unseen path that Jeb saw the approaching ex-Longcoats. Two men, armed.

"Cain!" one called out to him; by the voice, it was Cole, the officer who'd so graciously allowed Jeb and his companion to live until the Lady's return. Which, by the grim looks on the faces of the two soldiers as Jeb walked over, was now. Surely enough, Cole's face stretched into a menacing grin. "The Lady Catt has requested your presence in her tent," he said, barely able to contain the gleeful satisfaction he got from watching the son of Wyatt Cain crash and burn in his chosen endeavours.

Jeb was unceremoniously manhandled through the encampment, where most of the soldiers between the temple grounds and the Lady's tent stopped to get a good look at what was happening. Cole, still grinning, shouted for all the men to get back to work.

The Lady Catt's tent was a massive construction, reminding Jeb of a festival pavilion draped in red. Cole stopped short of the entrance and gave Jeb one last shove between the shoulders. Trying not to act timid or cowardly – trying not to _feel_ that way – he entered the tent. There were no other soldiers inside, only the two standing guard outside the entrance, and the two surplus that had escorted him from the temple grounds.

In the center of the lavishly decorated and heavily furnished tent stood the leader of the army outside the tent. On first glance, the sight of the Lady near took his breath away. She was tall, and carried herself with great authority. Though she was beautiful, there was nothing soft about her; not the brash, bright shade of her red hair, nor the cut of her dress, nor the angles and lines of her face.

Jeb swallowed back a lump in his throat. She hadn't yet noticed him; she was leaning over a long, wooden table, staring at a heavy tome that was open on the tabletop. With the intensity of her gaze, he wondered if she'd manage to burn holes right through the pages with her eyes.

Without looking up at him, she said, "I didn't expect any surprises when I returned here. But things, it seems, aren't exactly running as I expected they would. There have been too many alterations, too many changes. There is too much secrecy abroad."

Jeb said nothing, staring down at his feet now in case she decided to look up and catch him peeking.

"Jebedias Cain," she stated, as if it were written down in the book before her. "Son of Wyatt and Adora. Fighter, and sometime leader of the Resistance against the Sorceress Azkadellia during the time of the Emerald War."

"That's a position I didn't hold very long," Jeb said quietly. He looked up at the Lady then, and saw she was watching him with a pair of piercing green eyes. "The Resistance failed, anyhow. I didn't fight to put Azkadellia _back_ on the throne. I fought to bring an end to her rule."

"But you served her after the death of the Witch for almost an annual," Catt countered, smiling at him most winningly. "You were in a very, _very_ close position to her, were you not? Her very... _life_ was in your hands." A bit of unadulterated wickedness gleamed in her eyes.

"And the hands of the other's on her protection detail," Jeb interjected, putting emphasis on the truth of her statement and not the intention of her words. "I gave my word to someone that I would protect her."

The Lady looked unimpressed; she returned her gaze to the book. She turned a page, and Jeb saw that both sides of it were blank, as well as the next page. "This is a truly divine creation," she said slowly, running her fingernails over the paper, the scratch of it reaching his ears in the quiet of the tent. "It boggles my mind to think of who could have enchanted it to show the incredible things it can."

Her voice became a gentle purr, coaxing and lethal in its deceptiveness. "Do you know what it can show you, Boy?"

Clearing his throat, as he'd been asked an outright question, Jeb answered, "I've heard a few things around here as to its nature. Hearsay, I guess, as I don't think a one of them out there ever laid eyes on it proper."

"Come closer," she said enticingly, and he went, though not because he found any allure in her. "Let me show you what it does."

With the table separating them, the Lady Catt gave him one last cheeky grin before saying clearly, "Show me Azkadellia, Queen of the Outer Zone." She turned the book to face him. The blank page... Jeb's eyes widened as ink appeared on the paper in all colours, creating an ornate gilded border around the two pages. A picture appeared then, clear and pristine as if he were standing right in the room with the Queen and a panel of her advisors.

Az sat at a table, posture perfect as she signed her name to an endless queue of documents. A man on her left side placed papers in front of her, a man on her right reached down to take it away when she'd added her signature. The process repeated, it was something he'd seen a hundred times before.

The scene in the book slowly shifted, taking in a wider scope of the room and giving a better view of her face. Her jaw was set, and her lips thinned; she was bored, and she barely saw what she was signing, he could tell by the glazed look in her eyes. Even as he watched her, feeling a horrid guilt at intruding without her knowledge, he fought to keep his face impassive.

She looked... _sad._ Surrounded by those she trusted, but all alone just the same.

A voice sounded from within the book, one he recognized but could not put a name to. "Your Majesty," said the out-of-frame voice. "Master Ambrose is requesting a meeting with you. He says its quite urgent, and cannot wait."

Another voice, the advisor standing at her right shoulder. "The fool can wait. Even a brain as damaged as his must realize Her Majesty cannot be dragged away from –"

Reaching out, Jeb slammed the book shut. The letters _'O' _and _'Z' _were tooled in gold on the black leather cover. There was an exclamation of disgust from the Lady Catt at his sudden movement, though she recovered quickly enough to say, "Absolutely ingenious, isn't it?"

Jeb nodded stiffly. "Yeah, its something else."

The Lady smiled at him, showing him a row of even, white teeth. The tension he felt between his shoulder blades mounted. Before he even had the opportunity to think that he didn't like where this was going, the Lady had turned the book to face her once again and had opened it to a random page. "Show me Princess Dorothy of the Outer Zone."

Jeb cringed inwardly, but – nothing happened. No colours appeared, the page didn't shift.

The Lady Catt seemed unhindered. She turned the page, and said again, "Show me Her Royal Highness, Princess Dorothy Gale."

The page remained blank. The Lady sighed in frustration, though he could tell by her calm reaction that she wasn't surprised at the book's answer.

"She's hiding from me," she muttered low, her hair shielding her face as she bent over the book, back to caressing the pages with her fingernails, perhaps hoping she could coax the answer out with a bit of petting and kind treatment. "I'd never tried to call upon her before. Absolutely no use to me, just a Slipper. But the book can't find her, no matter how I spell it out. She's _hiding._" Then she laughed, an unhinged sound that caused a ripple of apprehension to shoot up Jeb's spine. "Show me Wyatt Cain," she said suddenly.

Jeb's heart seized, but... nothing happened. The page remained faded ivory, blank. Jeb wasn't sure what he was meant to say, but suddenly, the book was whirled toward him again, and the Lady's voice had gone from a quiet murmur to a forced tone of conviction. "Find me your father."

His eyebrows went up. "My – what?"

"Your father, your _father_!" she exclaimed impatiently.

Jeb cleared his throat. With an aggravated sigh, the Lady snapped her fingers, and Cole marched into the tent, pulled the hammer back on the revolver he'd pulled from his belt, and dug the tip of the barrel into the back of Jeb's neck, quick as blinking.

"_Find me your father,"_ the Lady Catt repeated.

Jeb fought to keep his calm. "Show me Wyatt Cain." Nothing. He turned the page. "Show me the Tin Man, Wyatt Cain." Not so much as the thinnest line, the most faded glimpse, nothing. Feeling a relief spread through his veins more nourishing than blood, he relaxed despite the gun pointed at the back of his head – at least, as much as one could in that situation. The Lady wasn't stupid, he was useful and his survival – for now – was assured. Her threats meant nothing to him, but he did his best to make it look like he was in the very least put-off.

"I think your book's broken."

The Lady Catt chuckled, a crazed and disturbing sound. She shook her head, the mane of flowing auburn hair playing with the meager light in the tent. "Its not broken," she spat out at his obvious idiocy. Jeb pretended to be contrite and thoroughly lashed by her tone. "Its being tricked."

From behind him, Cole spoke up. "Tricked?"

Lady Catt raised her eyes, glaring at the soldier who'd lowered his firearm away from the back of Jeb's head. "Tricked! Deceived, outwitted, _screwed with_. Magic, by my guess, at the princess' hands." Sharply, she turned her eyes on Jeb. "You. Who tutors the girl in her magical studies?"

Jeb cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That would be Tutor. Or, um... Lesley, is his name."

She gestured impatiently at the book. "Show me," she demanded.

Frowning, Jeb said, "Show me Willian Lesley of Central City."

The page before him fogged and swirled; it was all the same as before, yet... different. A border formed at the edges of the page, this time a trail of muddy black paw-prints. Tutor, handsomely tailored and utterly peaceful, was lounging on a sofa in what Jeb could only assume was his quarters at Alta Torretta. The man was sleeping.

Lady Catt frowned as she viewed the picture upside down. "No, no," she said slowly. "You're of no use at all, are you, Jebedias Cain? Well, we'll see, won't we?"

She was looking at him expectantly, and he was required to answer her. "I guess we will," Jeb said evenly.

The Lady smirked, an ugly ripple across her features. "You'll be a part of my personal escort," she said with a sense of finality that had Jeb repressing a shudder. "A man doesn't often turn on the woman he lies with." She nodded then to the book, and damned if the pages didn't give the faintest trace-outline of the golden border that had framed Azkadellia. "I want to keep an eye on you, Lieutenant Cain. You have yet to prove yourself loyal to our cause. We'll see just how useful you've yet to become to me."

* * *

_Author's Note: I don't bite... much._


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Chapter Thirty**

If Wyatt Cain could be thankful for one thing, it was that their animals were well rested from the two days spent underground in the Commander's barracks. That and only that seemed to be going in their favour.

The section of dirt road they travelled was rutted, and the snow was deep. The farther down out of the mountains they came, however, the more the road conditions improved, and Cain found himself ruefully thankful for something else. DG was quiet behind him, her tiny gloved hands locked together around his midsection. A few times he wondered if she might've fallen asleep. Every once in a while, he heard her mutter clearly to herself; if they were going slow enough and the beat of hooves on the ground didn't resound too loud, he could make out what she was saying.

"It'll do as it will. Hold on, keep it grounded. Hold on, keep it grounded. It'll do as it will..."

She sounded like she was trying to drill the words into her own head. It unsettled him, and he told himself he'd ask her on it later. Whenever later came.

At midday, they stopped at the first creek they came across, the flow swollen with run-off from the storm further up the mountainside. Now, the sky had cleared, and the snow around them had begun to melt, creating a mess of slush and mud beneath their feet.

Wyatt left DG and Raw to tend to the animals; DG led Juniper, their mare, to the waters edge, the round nose of the princess wrinkled at the smell of waterlogged muskeg and rotting wood. He heard the fluttering of wings, and looked up to see the falcon settle down on a branch none too far above Cain's head, and damned if the featherhead didn't squawk impatiently at him, bobbing his beak toward the ex-Longcoat that lingered near the edge of the road, staring into the direction they had yet to travel.

Cain stalked over, his steps level and none too slow. When he was a few feet away – no, more than a few, he couldn't quite sidle up to the man, repulsion caused him to keep his distance – he cleared his throat. Zero's head snapped toward the noise, and he rolled his eyes to see it was only the Tin Man.

"It'll be well past dark by the time we reach Fog's Bank," Cain said, though he knew the words were unnecessary. Surely enough, Zero nodded absently. "Won't be settled off the road more'n eight hours before we're back on it."

Zero turned cold grey eyes on Cain, a tiny hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he shook his head. "It'll be enough, don't worry."

"Hadn't planned on it."

The smirk on Zero's face transformed into a full-toothed smile, cruel and knowing. "Funny thing," he mused, "your plans. Walking straight into a camp when you know they'll kill you on sight."

Cain said nothing, though he figured he might break a tooth if his jaw clenched together any harder.

"Even if you manage to get past the guards and patrols on the shield without being seen, there's still the matter of the base and the temple. A _well-known_ face like yours is bound to attract some attention," Zero continued, and by the certainty in his voice, Cain figured he'd been thinking on this a while. "Unlike your little princess, or even myself, the witch hasn't got a use for you. She'll kill you and most likely make it hurt. You're going to make the little Slipper watch that? 'Cause you know damn well they'll make her." The bastard had the audacity to chuckle.

Cain was amazed at how much control it took over his hands to keep them from ending Zero's life right then and there. But the ex-Longcoat wasn't finished. "At what point are you going to let her head off on her own? You going to be able to trust her to go on alone, to save your own hide?"

Without a word, Cain turned on his heel, jaw set firmly. His hands itched to be kept busy, his twitching fingers going automatically to rest lightly on his holster. He walked over to his friends on the steep creek bank, watching DG thread her fingers through the mare's mane as the animal bent her head to drink. She craned her neck to see him standing over them, and her eyes warily drank in his defensive stance.

Her lips formed an unhappy line, and he could see her holding back her words; more than likely a reprimand for his overcautious paranoia. After he'd been saying since Day One that she trusted too easily. Now, he could see her rethinking her approach, she pushed a weak smile to the forefront and let her clear blue eyes stare right into him. "Everything okay?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah," he said shortly. "Lets get back on the road. We're burnin' daylight just standin' around here."

DG stood up slowly, brushing her hands off on her slacks, though at no point did she drop the mare's reins. He could tell she hadn't swallowed his indifferent attitude toward the situation, but she didn't seem prepared to call him on it, either.

Glancing over, he saw Raw watching him passively, which in turn frustrated Cain to no end. Less than five minutes later, he was helping DG up into the saddle though she didn't require it, and pulling himself up behind her. Wrapping her securely in place, he kicked the mare into a quick-paced canter. His mind kept his thoughts too dark for the warmth of DG pressed against him to penetrate.

The temperature dropped once the suns set. DG's trembling started not long after. With his armload of princess, Cain began to curse to himself over his decision to take the detour to the village of Fog's Bank. There were beacons lit to lead the way into the village about a mile past the outskirts. The torches cast shadows that danced and twisted, leaving his shoulders tense and his nerves shot by the time they reached the village proper. Zero had taken the lead once they'd reached the safety of the beacons, and it was he that spoke to the lone watchman that called out into the night.

"Who goes? State your business!"

"Forester," Zero said evenly. "I seek the shelter of my home, and nothing more."

The watchman scoffed. "Forester, eh? People 'round here think there ain't no Mr. Forester. Just a lonely widow can't accept he ain't gonna come marchin' home from the war."

"War's over." There was a finality to the statement that struck Cain somewhere deep, and that fact made him very uncomfortable. DG shifted in his arms, and he looked down at her, offering her a bit of a quirk to his lips that could almost resemble a smile in the flickering light.

"Yep, that is surely is," the watchman said, and he held his torch higher. "That's quite the group you've got with ya, Mr. Forester."

There was a snort of laughter from Zero. "Managed to pick up a few strays. Now if you'll excuse us," he said, and dug a small pouch out of his pocket. The jingle of gold coins reached Cain's ears at the pouch fell into the hands of the watchman. "Make sure our arrival goes unnoticed."

The watchman gave a curt nod as the three horses and four riders went past him. By the time they'd crossed the village, wending their way quietly through streets where only a few windows were blazing, a freezing drizzle had started. In his arms, DG groaned as cold droplets of water slid down the back of her neck.

On the periphery of the village, nestled in trees and mostly hidden from view, the cottage of Aleas Forester waited quietly. Candles burned in the windows that looked out on the road, as if she were expecting a visitor; Cain had a sinking feeling in his stomach that endless candles had adorned the windows, burning lonely and clear, for months. Two separate private roads broke away onto the property, one leading up to the house and another leading around behind it. It was the latter that they followed, back to where the looming shadows of a collection of buildings stood out black against the dark clouds. Far behind them, the house had all but disappeared into the night.

With cold rain dripping from the brim of his hat, Cain dismounted and all but pulled DG from the saddle. Setting her down on the ground, he took a moment to give her face a brief sweep of his thumb across her cheek. He found it harder to tell whose skin was colder, hers or his own, and set about what work needed to be done.

Zero opened up the stable for them, and within twenty minutes, the three beasts were brushed and blanketed, fed and watered. With the lanterns lit, Cain could see a bit of the building and the dooryard beyond, where DG stood, seemingly alone. She was talking quietly to something or someone, and Cain had the vaguest suspicion that if he stepped a little closer, he'd see the corporal in his shifted form, perched on a fencepost.

The group walked back to the house, taking a well-beaten and uneven trail through the woods, Zero in the lead. Once they'd reached the clearing meant to serve as a backyard, he moved faster, mounting the porch steps in twos and banging on the door with his fist as soon as he'd reached it. Cain read impatience in his every movement. With DG close behind him and Raw at his side, Cain stood in the grass as the rain picked up.

Zero had raised his hand and beat upon the door a second time when it finally opened. Cain felt DG shrink closer to him as the dark-haired beauty stepped out of the kitchen and onto the porch, the heavy hunting rifle in her hands raised and ready to fire as she pointed the double-barrel straight at her husband's chest.

"You've got three seconds to explain yourself before I blow a hole in that heartless cavity of yours," she whispered angrily. Cain doubted she'd even seen the three in the yard, her eyes focused solely on the man on her doorstep.

"Put that damned thing down, Aleas," Zero said casually.

The hammer being pulled back on the rifle echoed loud despite the rain, answering in a way that words couldn't quite convey. Clearing his throat, Zero raised his hands. "Let us in the house, Aleas," he said, though he leaned back in a gesture of good faith.

Aleas lowered the rifle slightly, glancing now past Zero for the first time to the three strangers standing in her yard. When her sharp turquoise eyes landed on him, Cain knew she recognized him immediately, and he felt his lips settle into a thin line of impatience on their own. She turned her eyes back on her husband, and Cain was amused to see the man flinch. "What are you playing at, John?" she asked in a low, almost scared voice.

"Let us in the house," Zero repeated carefully.

Lowering the firearm, Aleas stepped back into the house to allow them passage. Her eyes drank in greedily each of the four bodies to cross her threshold, eyes lingering longest on Cain himself; a certain rage rose in him when he saw her nod stiffly at DG, not a respectful bow of the head but a bare gesture of acknowledgement. Ignoring the woman, he strode past her and went straight to the front of the house, securing the doors, closing the curtains, and extinguishing the guiding lights she'd placed on the two front windowsills.

When he turned around, DG was standing at the edge of the sitting room, staring around at the sparse furnishings, at the fire burning mightily behind the grate. Like himself, she was wet and bedraggled, shaking from head to foot; as soon as she saw the fireplace, she crossed the room to the fireplace and began to pull her soggy gloves from her fingers.

The arguing in the kitchen chased Raw to the front of the house, and the Viewer joined DG, holding shivering hands out toward the warmth of the fire. Leaving them, Cain returned to the kitchen.

Aleas was dimming the lamps; her lips were pursed and she was shaking her head violently. "You still haven't said where you've been."

Zero snorted angrily. "Doesn't matter now. Hiding, and that's all you need to know. Where the hell else would I have been?"

"Its been almost an annual since you dumped me here," she snapped, "and you show up now carting the Tin Man that was here looking for you? You got any more of the royal army in the stable?"

Cain decided he'd best speak up. "Ma'am, you won't need to be worryin' about the royal army," he said, despising himself for every word that came out of his mouth. "We'll be back on the road before dawn, just needed a place to rest the night. Your husband–" And damned if that word didn't give him difficulty, "– thought it best to hole up here. Weather outside ain't exactly permittin'."

Aleas looked slightly mollified, which infuriated her husband. He began to tear into her about the incident at the door with the rifle, and the heated words soon had Cain turning tail and running for the safety and sanity of the sitting room. DG and Raw were still standing by the fireside, loitering as, Cain assumed, they were unwilling to set their wet bodies down on their host's furniture. Joining them, the three stood in silence – something that would have been impossible had Glitch been there to make them complete.

Long minutes ticked away, the angry words being spit back and forth only a room away punctuating each second with pain and discomfort. Raw took to studying the few photographs on the mantel; DG began to whistle tunelessly, random sweet notes winding down and breaking. Cain eventually walked over to the windows, pushing back the curtain with one finger to watch the darkness beyond the glass. The porch roof sheltered the window from the rain, but the from the sound of water pouring from the eaves, the drizzle was fast turning into a downpour.

The approach of silk-slippered footsteps had Cain shifting to see the doorway at his back. The missus of the house had reappeared, scowling hard; she seemed even more pretty while incensed, a thought he shoved down with great guilt. Aleas directed her words – clipped and cold – at DG, though at no point did she look at the princess, which didn't sit well at all with him.

"The master suite is just through that door, Your Highness," she said, chewing on DG's title like a mouthful of lye. When DG opened her mouth to protest – something about kicking the lady of the house out of her own bed, Aleas held up a hand. "Please, no arguments. There is no marriage bed in this house; its yours for as long as you stay."

The sound of glass breaking in the kitchen cut through the air, jolting near everyone out of their skin. Cain stepped back from the window, letting the curtain fall. "One night is all," he said firmly. "Sunsrise'll see us gone."

Aleas looked slightly placated, and nodded toward a door. Cain walked over, checking to see a steep, narrow stairwell leading into darkness. She rambled on about beds and room and extra blankets, though her words fell on mostly deaf ears.

Something in the room had shifted dangerously. Turning from the stairwell, Cain expected to see Zero lingering about, but the ex-Longcoat was nowhere to be seen, sounds from the kitchen betraying his location. Drawing back his duster, Cain wrapped his hand around the grip of his revolver, drawing it out bare inches as he searched face to face, his every nerve and sense alert now. Aleas' face had become a mask of confusion, her mouth open as she'd stopped speaking mid-sentence; DG was staring hard at Raw, and she'd reached out a tentative hand to touch his arm. The Viewer himself had gone stiff, and his breathing had quickened.

"What is it?" Cain demanded. The harsh words caused Raw's expression to ripple sadly.

"Someone coming. Up the road from village."

DG straightened warily as Aleas fled into the other room to retrieve her husband; Cain sorely wished she hadn't, because just as he was unsheathing his revolver completely and opening the front door slowly, Zero came barging in from the other room, loading a different rifle than the one that had greeted them.

Cain nodded toward DG and Raw, who both fell back together with their curiosity at bay; he spied a bare glimpse of their hands catching together as he turned his back on them. As he headed out into the dark night behind Zero – might as well let the bastard go first – Cain decided to come back to the mystery of Raw's subjective heart-sight. For now, he pushed it to the back of his mind, his ears tuned to hearing beyond the sound of the rain, his eyes focused to seeing what minimal movement he might in the black.

Within minutes of stepping down off the porch he was soaked; he didn't take a moment to turn up his collar or button his duster. The cold seeped into him quickly, but his hands stayed steady; he was unwavering in his vigilance. A few feet ahead of him, Zero had the rifle raised to his shoulder, pointing it directly ahead as his head turned left or right. The driveway leading to the road was packed dirt, and the crunch of gravel beneath their feet was drowned out by the rain.

Cain's nerves gave a rough jolt at the sound of Zero's firearm being pumped once, a harsh metallic sound; ahead of them, a harsh, terrified shout called out over the drumming beat of water on the road. "Please don't shoot!" begged a disturbingly familiar voice.

Anger and disbelief welled up inside of Cain; his boots lurched forward on their own, brushing past Zero and grabbing the stranger almost violently by the jacket. He dragged the wet, protesting body straight back to the house. Zero called out in fury and confusion, but the words barely reached Wyatt's ears, who was almost seeing red through the rain by the time he hauled the boy up the steps and through the front door. He all but threw the sputtering kid on the threadbare rug. "How the hell did you find us?" he roared.

DG hopped up from her seat by the fire. She looked from the kid to Cain and back again, her blue eyes darting back and forth so quickly Cain thought she might make herself dizzy. Her lips parted in puzzlement, and when she spoke, she looked at Cain, her words directed at him.

"Tory?"

* * *

***

* * *

The echo of purposeful footsteps across the great hall of the Northern Palace caused her to look up from her mending. The sight that met her lavender eyes troubled her more than it comforted her. Quickly, she put down the seams she'd been tending to, a simple and mundane task to keep her hands busy. Her sewing scissors clattered to the floor as she rose from her chair, the sound drowned out by the approaching footsteps bouncing off the pillars around her.

"General Andrus," she said, attempting to keep her voice calm. "What an unexpected pleasure."

Upon reaching the Queen Mother, General Peter Andrus bowed, eyes lowering to the floor respectfully. "Your Majesty."

After further pleasantries were exchanged, enough to put her at ease, she led the general to a study off her personal quarters. Only in this room would there be privacy enough for them to talk, the thick walls guarding their conversation, unlike the insubstantial glass-pane screens that made up most of the rooms.

"You journeyed safely, I trust?" she said as soon as the general closed the study door.

"Yes," he said, "I come from the South. I had the pleasure of visiting Finaqua; this blasted cold has infected near every corner of the country."

Immediately on her guard at the mention of Finaqua, she turned to Andrus without the slightest ripple of reaction in her features. "What business took you to the Southern palace, General?" she asked, feigning innocent curiosity.

"I had hoped to meet with Captain Cain," Andrus told her. "I would very much have liked his insights on some recent developments on our campaigns in the Southeast."

Ah, there it was. Wyatt Cain and DG had been found out; finally, someone had looked close enough to see that all was not as it should be. Well, this wouldn't do at all. A distraction, perhaps. "These developments are favourable?" she asked, in an attempt to guide his focus.

The general gave her a half-hearted smile; he was catching onto her avoidance by the way she'd steered the conversation away from Wyatt Cain. "That would depend, Madame."

She sighed, and gracefully fell into the chair that sat behind the desk. She motioned politely for the general to sit before the desk in one of the chairs situated there, but he remained standing. Just as well. "Tell me of these developments," she asked kindly; she was not in any position to be making demands from Andrus, but she never thought for a moment he would deny her the information she sought – despite the fact that she was moving them farther and father away from his true intent.

"There have been reports out of the West, sightings of ex-supporters of the Sorceress," he said.

"Longcoats."

Andrus nodded.

Leaning back in her chair, she sighed. Closing her lavender eyes, she touched chilled fingertips to her forehead. "I assume no arrests were made?"

"No," Andrus said, a hint of anger and disappointment in his voice; the man's dedication to righting the wrongs of the war touched her deeply. "The 'Coats had disappeared before our men could properly scout the area," he explained. "There are rumours that persisted with those willing to speak."

She raised an eyebrow. "Rumours?"

"Yes... talk of another witch."

Something buried inside of her shivered violently, causing even her serene exterior to tremble. "Can this be confirmed?"

"Not at this moment," was his only reply.

She took her time to consider all of this, and the general waited patiently. When at last she decided to speak, his face was kindly toward her. "Is my daughter aware of this?"

"Queen Azkadellia is aware of all accounts and details," Andrus said.

_And what of DG?_, she lamented to herself. _Is she aware of the danger in the countryside as she moves about? Is she still hidden? Is she still safe?_

She sighed; she knew the general trustworthy as surely as she knew her heart beat within her chest. But, there was a hesitance in speaking of DG, of revealing anything to anyone that might endanger her daughter, enough to cause her to balk over what she was about to say.

"I cannot tell you where Captain Cain is, General," she said, honesty seeping from her voice. No, she could not. It ached inside to think that she had no idea where her daughter and the Tin Man who protected her were.

"I'll admit I had hoped you could," Andrus said, a faint smile tugging at the age-lined corners of his mouth. "I assume he is with the Princess Royal, though the entirety of the Central City palace seem to think they've taken up residence at Finaqua. I myself took for granted for it to be true."

She gave a faint smile. "Yes, that does seem to be the general consensus. My daughter is, in truth, attending to business concerning the Emerald on behalf of the Crown."

"I see," Andrus said slowly, glancing down at the desktop. When his eyes met those of the former queen, he found no answers. "A dangerous task, for one so young." His words came out almost casually. "The stone carries a history of nothing but misery and sacrifice for those connected to it."

"The task was given to her, and she is the only one who will be able to complete it."

Andrus cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Given to her by _whom?_"

The contemplative, mysterious smile he received told him there would be no straight answer to that question. "And the army's assistance wasn't required? I understand that the princess does seem to have an inordinate amount of luck, but if you'll forgive me, Majesty, she also has a knack for finding herself right in the middle of where she oughtn't be."

She smiled fondly in remembrance of her daughter. Yes, DG certainly did give off that first impression, no matter whom she was with or what she was doing. "There is an old saying about discretion," she said instead, not at all unkindly. "The army has a bit of a presence about it."

It was Andrus' turn to smile ruefully.

A half-hour later, he was dismissed from the Queen Mother's study, leaving her to deep thought. As he swept down the grand staircase, his mind still swirled with the information he'd received. It troubled him deeply to know that the young princess, heiress to the throne until her sister produced a child, was stumbling about the Zone with the protection of only two guards.

His only consolation was that Wyatt Cain was well aware of the turbulence in the Southeast, and would keep his charge as far placed from it as possible.

* * *

***

* * *

Cain's interrogation of Tory took all of ten minutes. Only four had passed before the Tin Man knew the kid was lying, DG was sure of it. She couldn't say she knew Wyatt Cain well enough to read every nuance in his expressions, but she recognised when his voice would drop lower or his words come stiffly to match the set of his jaw. She knew enough to know he didn't believe what the kid was telling them.

Cain and DG had shut themselves up inside the master bedroom with the boy for some semblance of privacy for the questioning. DG's muting shield over the room did the rest. "Do I get a lawyer?" Tory asked DG hopefully from his seat on the bed, after the ten minutes of talking in circles had passed.

Standing behind Cain, she shook her head, trying to hide a smile.

Tory glanced reproachfully at Cain. "I already told you, Tin Man. I ran away from Central City last night," he said for the third time.

Cain looked exasperatedly at the two of them. "I'm a step away from fetchin' the local sheriff to cart you off and get you outta my hair, Kid," he warned. "You still haven't explained what you're doin' in _this_ village. It ain't that small of a world."

"I still _can't_ explain it," Tory said indignantly. "I just picked a road and wound up here."

"A long way to travel from Central in a day," Cain snapped. As far as DG knew, it was almost a two-day ride to Central City.

Tory snorted. "I caught a ride with a delivery truck," he said. "Cold and bumpy as hell, and the asshole ditched me here!"

"And you saw us passing through the village," DG spoke up; she and Cain had heard that out of Tory's mouth more than once as well.

"Yeah," the kid said nervously. "I followed you."

Cain cursed under his breath before turning sharp eyes on Tory; the boy had the good sense to be thoroughly intimidated. "You followed us," Wyatt muttered. "And who followed you, I wonder."

Tory was insulted. "I didn't lead anyone here!"

Cain didn't look convinced, but DG believed the kid; she didn't know why, she just did. A few minutes later, when the clock out in the living room struck midnight, Cain let it all go with a deep, heaving sigh. In less than six hours, they'd be leaving again and they all needed to sleep; she couldn't imagine just what Cain was thinking, but most of the options left her with an empty feeling in her stomach, one that ached unpleasantly.

Tory went out into the living room, eyeing Raw warily. Raw had joined DG and Cain after they'd left Tory in Central City, and it was a good guess that the boy had never seen a Viewer before. DG could remember her own fright at her first glance of Raw, but the circumstances had been completely, utterly different –

"_You want that bad attitude drippin' outta your ears?"_

– and she thought the boy keeping his distance from the hairy stranger was unnecessary.

Zero had headed back out to look for any other strangers on the road, and his wife was less than welcoming of the new arrival. Aleas all but sneered at Tory as she explained if he wanted a roof over his head for the night, he'd best head out back to the barn. DG was the first to speak up an objection, but Cain put a gentle, heavy hand on her shoulder.

"I'll be keepin' an eye on him anyway," he told her, blue eyes showing nothing that she could read. Swallowing hard, her brain whirled with a dozen counter arguments, but she was too tired to fight, and only meekly nodded. She knew it went without saying that Cain couldn't be dissuaded, and that pulling rank with everyone to get her way would solve nothing.

"Sleep tight, Princess," Wyatt murmured in her ear, and turned around before she could respond, marching the boy out the back door into the rain. Moments later, shaking his head sadly, Raw mounted the steps alone to the rooms above, and DG was suddenly left standing with only Zero's wife. Awkward, to say the very least.

Aleas went about closing up the house angrily, and DG retreated back into the bedroom she'd been given. She left the door open, wanting to know when Zero returned from checking the property for more intruders, anyone that might have followed Tory from the village.

_It doesn't make any sense, _she thought as she turned down the sheets. _Tory's lying, and Wyatt doesn't want him staying in the house any more than Aleas does. _

They were on the fringe of something happening, she could feel it deep inside her; like a spark of magic yet undiscovered, but still there, a part of her. Perhaps they were being set up, relying too much on those they weren't one hundred percent sure they could trust. If her success in her task was dependant on how much she trusted her own instincts, she sure as hell hoped she was making the right decisions. When she thought of how the lives of those she cared about – Cain and Raw especially – were constantly at risk, well – tears would do her no good, but she could feel them prickling at the corners of her eyes just the same.

Something was happening. And the more she thought about it...

Her eyes travelled on their own to the mirror over the dressing table. It was larger than the mirror she'd broken underground. Her own reflection stared back at her, pale and slumped.

"Your Highness," spoke up Aleas from the doorway, knocking sharply on the frame. "I brought you an extra blanket."

_Perfect timing_, DG thought as she took the blanket from the woman with a thank-you. Unfolding it, she tossed it over the mirror.

Aleas raised a beautifully arched eyebrow, but made no comment. The look that she gave DG as she left the room was almost one of contempt. She was lucky she was too tired to care, or she might have been offended. Despite the open hostility she showed her royal guest, Aleas Forster had made sure there were clean linens on the bed, and that had DG looking forward to a few hours of sleep, boy in the barn be damned.

After stripping down to her camisole, socks and panties, she crawled into the bed. She hung her clothes up on the bedpost, easy to reach. She left the kerosene lamp on the bedside table burning very low, and closed her eyes. Tried to sleep.

She spent almost an hour staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the house. Rain spattered against the window; Zero returned and the fighting resumed somewhere in the small house, words heated but too low to make out. As tired as her body was, her mind wouldn't let her sleep.

When she heard her name called, she thought finally she was dreaming... until she heard it again, and sat up in the bed, feeling the coldness of the room around her. Maybe she was just going crazy; she chuckled to herself as she hopped up out of the bed to retrieve the extra blanket from over the mirror.

_Honestly, Deeg,_ she thought, _are you afraid of the dark, or what?_

DG pulled the blanket down and wrapped it around herself; despite her self-goading, she didn't look at her reflection... she wasn't feeling _that_ brave.

"_Wait!"_

DG stopped in her tracks. _Oh, please no. Just count to ten and keep walking. One, two, three..._

"_Please, Princess!"_

..._Four, five six... aww, hell!_

She turned on her heel, her shoulders exposed as she pinned the blanket to her body with her arms. When her eyes hit the mirror, DG saw immediately not her own blanketed form, not that she'd expected to. No, the girl in the mirror gazed imploringly at DG, her hand up against the glass.

"Not a chance," DG said firmly, her mouth curving down into a frown. She tried to keep her voice low as she leaned forward slightly toward the glass. "Don't make me break it again."

"_You wouldn't."_

"Wanna bet?"

"_You're angry," _the girl pointed out.

DG began to search the dresser top for something that she could use to break the glass. She wasn't sure what she'd done the first time to cause the mirror to shatter, back in the Commander's barracks, but she was certainly _not_ touching it this time. All she needed was something hard... while she looked, she addressed her stalker.

"You're following me," she hissed. "I don't know _how_ you're doing it. If you can find me, how do I know the Lady Catt can't find me?" She was having second thoughts about destroying the mirror – she was a guest after all, and even if Hank and Emily hadn't been her parents, they'd taught her about respect. Damn conscience.

"_She can't find you. The book can't find you." _It bothered DG that the reflection sounded so damn sure of herself.

"How do you know about the book?" DG asked carefully.

"_It used to be mine. She took it from me when she stole me from my father."_

DG took a minute, she had to otherwise she feared she might be in danger of using one of the defensive kicks Glitch had taught her to break the mirror and end the conversation. Finally, she looked up as steadily as she could at the mirror, at the girl she saw on the other side of the glass.

"You've helped me. A lot," she said, needing to address that fact first. "I want to know and I want to know now: what do you want in return?"

"_I can't tell you. I can only show you."_

Oh, she didn't like that one bit. "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

"_I have to show you. You'd never believe it otherwise."_

A little nattering voice in the back of her head told her this was the time to turn around. The voice that she'd heard before she'd picked up the stick to rush headlong into a pack of Longcoats; the voice she'd heard as she stood, decked out in a cocktail dress, before the closed dressing room door of the Mystic Man... the voice she'd heard when she stood as a child with her sister before the entrance to a cave, studying the symbols carved into the rock. The voice that she never listened to.

Her mouth felt too dry as she asked, "Show me _what_?"

"_Put your hands on the glass, DG."_

DG considered the request, for that's what it had been. Not a demand, an order. She wasn't begging. She'd asked kindly, without expectation. Hold on, keep it grounded...

She raised her trembling hands to the glass, placing them exactly where the girl had placed her hands, so that their fingers lined up. The girl's fingers were slightly longer, more slender. The surface of the glass itself stayed solid; it was cool beneath her sweaty fingers. And then, suddenly, the glass wasn't there at all, and the girl was locking their fingertips together and giving DG a hard yank.

What the trip through the mirror felt like, DG would never be able to explain because it happened so instantaneously that she didn't really _feel_ anything. One second, she was standing before Aleas Forester's dressing-table, and the next she was falling forward. The hands that held her let her go as she cried out; she hit the ground hard, her bare knees scraping on the floor as she landed in a tangled pile with the blanket that had come along for the ride.

The first thing she noticed was the worn wooden floor beneath her, boards slatted inches apart to show darkness below. She definitely wasn't where she had been, and she had no idea where she was now. Panicked, she looked around and noticed a hand being held out to help her to her feet. Her eyes focused on the hand in the dim light, following up an arm, a torso, and neck to the concerned face of...

Tory.

DG's jaw dropped; the look on the boy's face was sympathetic, but serious.

"I told you that you wouldn't believe it."


	31. Chapter Thirty One

_Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who is still reading, and an extra special thank you to those who are reviewing. I need all the encouragement I can get most days.  
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* * *

  
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**Chapter Thirty One**

She didn't believe it.

She knew she should; it would save her a lot of time and grief in the long run if she just accepted the evidence she was presented with. After all, seeing should be believing. Apparently, it wasn't that easy.

Tory had brought her to the barn, that much was obvious. The planks beneath her feet had an inch of space between them; when she looked down, she could see glimpses of the lower level beneath her feet. The rain drummed on the eaves above her head. She thought she heard something unseen skitter through the open rafters.

There was an old chair in one corner of the loft and DG sat down on it. Tory gave her a spare pair of jeans, and she tugged them on while his back was turned, then sat back down. She didn't slouch, kept her hands demurely in her lap – but her fingers kept busy, the glimmer of truth through the mask.

The kid watched her, waiting for her to react. She hated to disappoint him, but she felt so detached by the bombardment of information in the past two minutes that it had rendered her not only speechless, but apathetic as well. She had nothing for him, but he didn't look exactly willing when it came to volunteering anything either. The notion crossed her mind to just get up and walk away, to head back to the house and straight to Raw for a bit of superior insight on the situation; her shoulders sagged visibly when she banished this thought.

She needed to start at the beginning of what she knew. "How did you do that?" she asked, nodding to the dirty shaving mirror that hung from the wall, her entry point.

Tory gave a breathy chuckle, and half-smiled. "It works as a window," he explained. "I don't have the best control over my Light anymore, not in this body..." He looked down at himself and scuffed the floor with the toe of his sneaker. "The closer I am to the person I'm trying to contact, the better. It doesn't work like the book does... I have to know exactly where you are to be able to see you."

DG shook her head slowly, her brain working quickly at connecting what she knew; she was ridiculously close to a sensory overload. "So its been _you_ watching me all this time. Stalking, spying! _Lying_!" She did nothing to dim the anger she felt. The acrid taste of betrayal was settling in the back of her throat, and she couldn't swallow it away. Tears would come next; damn it, she wasn't going to let this reduce her to tears.

Taking every one of her accusations with only the barest flinch, the kid watched her in silence – a little funny calling him a kid, when he – _she_ – had disappeared from history over one hundred years before. "I've also been helping you," was the only thing he said in his defence.

She heaved a deep sigh, one that trembled into her marrow. "Are you really her? Pastor's daughter?"

Tory snorted and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Once upon a time, I mighta been," he said, shaking his head but not hiding that perpetual hint of a smile. "The old witch locked me up in this body, to hide me where no one could find me. Hidden in plain sight. She used to parade me around as a personal valet in Central City... but that was a _long_ time ago."

"The old witch," DG muttered. "Cattacalisa?"

Tory rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I hear that's the name she's going by these days. Don't know anything about the body she's in now, but I'd know her if I saw her. The eyes stay the same."

"Yeah, I can see that," DG said. Mostly, it was his eyes that convinced her the kid was telling the truth. She'd never noticed that the eyes watching her now were the same eyes that she'd focused on in the mirrors. She didn't want to consider for a moment just how much of her life those eyes had seen in the past year. But something about it nagged at her. "Why have you been helping me?"

Tory grinned meekly. "Would it surprise you in the slightest if I said I wanted something from you?"

"I can't remove the spell," she said automatically; it unsettled her at how fast the words came out. But it was truth, and it had nothing to do with her faith in her own Light, or her mastery over it. A spell as complex as to contain a person – body and soul – inside a flesh prison couldn't be unwoven by any one but the caster. She had a vague inkling that the spell could be destroyed, but that meant that both the construct and the person it contained would be killed. There were entire books written on the subject, Tutor had recommended them to her – why hadn't she read them?

"I know you can't," he replied easily, "and I'm not asking you to. But you're on the right track."

DG closed her eyes and placed her face in her hands, leaning over slightly to stop the room from spinning. "I don't understand," she said against her palms. She was just about ready – and willing – to admit defeat.

"I'm not too concerned about the spell," Tory said, moving over to her chair and kneeling on the floor in front of her. When she looked at him through her splayed fingertips, she saw honesty in his face that she wanted to trust. "Although, don't get me wrong," he continued, and gave a small laugh. "I'd jump at the chance if it were ever offered to me. But as it stands right now... its not important."

DG dropped her hands into her lap, having to fight off vivid flashbacks to the hilltop before the siege on the Tower; the memory of Cain's voice jolted her resolve. "Then what is important?" she asked, trying her very hardest to keep her voice from breaking.

"Stopping Catt," Tory said, his tone lowering. His eyes spoke of a seriousness and conviction that she recognized at once as echoing her own. "She hasn't gotten the idea of sitting on the throne of the O.Z. out of her head, not once in all the annuals that have passed since I got away." The kid swallowed hard before going on. "I ran, okay? First chance I got, I escaped. I tried awakening a Travel Storm to take me over to the Other Side... well, needless to say I nearly didn't make it. I almost killed myself, and I lost control of it. After it dumped me, it hit a couple of houses, and inadvertently..." he trailed, and she could see an unwillingness to continue wash over him.

He didn't have to, however. She'd made the connection almost immediately. "It left you in Kansas," she whispered, "and sent Dorothy Gale to the O.Z."

"Yeah," Tory said with a rueful grin. "And we all know how well that part of the story worked out."

She was surprised at how little that insulted her. "The army is well aware of Cattacalisa," DG told him, though she didn't meet his eyes as she spoke. "If you're patient, the generals will take care of your problem for you." She tried to believe in her own words; she didn't want to think that the issue of dealing with another witch could very well land on her shoulders. She had enough to do, to think about already. And in her mind, it sounded a lot more like murder than the last time she'd faced a witch.

Tory grimaced, marring his youthfully handsome face. "She gets a hold of the Emerald or you, the army won't be able to do a thing to stop her from marching on Central City; with the book and an army of her own, what power in the world do you think is going to stop her?"

DG stared at the kid for a long while, her brain processing and coming to terms with everything that had been said. Where his knowledge came from, she didn't know... a long dormant reflex was surfacing somewhere deep inside her, and she listened to its primal call. She was tired of standing and fighting.

Pushing up out of the chair, she brushed past the kid, nearly knocking him to his rear. She followed the draft she felt on her bare feet; it would lead her to the stairs, and back to the house.

"Deeg, wait!" the kid called out only once, but he didn't follow.

* * *

***

* * *

Wyatt Cain stood in the shadows of the barn's lower level, leaning up against a wall. His head was tilted downwards, and anyone who knew him would know well enough that he was brooding over a great many things. One to whom he was a stranger mightn't think him the type for deep thought, and would think he was waiting for something. In reality, it was a bit of both.

He listened very closely. With most of the theatrics over with, the two voices he heard above him had hushed somewhat and he was left only catching the odd word. That sat fine with him; he'd heard more than enough to chew on for quite a while.

Cain had always had a suspicion that something about Tory didn't quite add up. When he heard DG fall to the floor above his head, knowing full well he'd left her in the house, he'd determined to keep his mouth shut and his ears open. He hadn't been disappointed, but at the same time, black realizations were settling into his mind.

It had occurred to him already that the army might have more on their hands than they could handle, and that the source of the trouble was the witch standing behind the Longcoats. DG's reluctance to see where all the steps were leading her hadn't raised a flag with him until now; however, hearing her outright deny that another confrontation with the Lady Catt would result in anything less than her fighting to save her own life had Cain downright bothered.

The girl couldn't skirt danger forever. At some point or another, she was going to have to get her hands dirty. As much as he wanted to take on the brunt of that burden, there were some things he just wasn't going to be able to protect her from.

Loud, dull footsteps on the stairs brought Cain's attention back to the stuffy, damp barn around him. DG was skipping down the stairs; she wasn't the stealthiest creature in the world. When he saw her wiping tears out of her eyes, Cain stepped forward out of the shadow. The movement caught DG's eye and she gasped at his sudden appearance. Glad she hadn't cried out in fright, he motioned for her to follow him out of the barn.

There was a narrow space between the barn and the stable, where the roofs met and no rain could get through. It was filled with the shadows cast from the yard lanterns, and the grass was knee-high. It was here that Cain led her, certain that with the sound of the rain and the isolated spot there would be no one to overhear them speak, and if the kid had tried to follow DG out of the barn, he wouldn't be able to see into the shadows that now enveloped Wyatt and the princess.

He gave her a minute to compose herself, but even after swiping at her eyes and pushing her hair away from her face, DG still trembled slightly in a manner he knew had nothing to do with the night air. Frowning, he watched as she gave her head a shake; she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"How much of that did you hear?" she asked him, well aware that he'd been listening.

"Most all of it," Wyatt said honestly. The distance between them was barely there as they squeezed themselves into that narrow space; sighing, he wrapped an arm around her and drew her to him. She had no jacket; her arms and shoulders were bare. Despite this, and the chill of the night around them, he wasn't taking her back to the house until they were both clear on exactly how – and how much – everything had just changed.

"I need to know, Princess," he said slowly, and as clearly as he could, "just what're you thinkin' now."

DG parted her lips, her mind reacting to the seriousness of his expression, the deeper tone in his voice. "Part of me wants to believe he's telling the truth about who he is, but the sensible part of my head keeps telling me he sounds crazy," she said flat-out. "I can't even... You know, I've blindly accepted a lot in the past year, but this... this tops the list."

Cain managed a half-smile down at her. "Doesn't surprise me in the slightest you'd be keepin' tabs," he told her, and she flashed him the briefest grin. "And as for the boy, well... from what I heard, he sounds every bit as crazy as you did from the minute you let me out of the tin box. And to my recollection, that worked out well enough."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Well enough or not," she insisted, "I don't like the idea of running into Lady Catt again, much less seeking her out."

He exhaled deeply at the edge of fear in her voice. "You still want to go through with the plan as is? Forget what the kid asked you?"

She nodded solemnly.

He sighed, letting her go to look at her properly; he felt that right was the only way to do this. "I've never known you to turn down someone who asked you for help before," he said evenly.

As he'd expected, she flared instantly. "Wyatt, things are so messed up that I can barely remember what I'm doing out here any more! I have been reduced to grovelling for information from people who have tried to kill both of us on numerous occasions. And now... now..." She paused, and drew a shaky breath. "All I want is to get this _done,_ before we get into so much trouble we can't possibly get out of it. All I want is for us to go _home_."

Cain near smiled at her blatant honesty. "And where might _home_ be, Darlin'?"

Leaning into him, she pressed her forehead to his shoulder. "Wherever you are, and wherever no one wants us dead sounds fine to me."

He chuckled; despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help himself. He kissed the top of her head, and when she tilted her head back, he knew exactly what she wanted. Their noses bumped together as he lowered his head and repeated the gesture on her lips.

Wyatt pulled away mere centimeters, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. "Ya know," he said gently, for his words were sure to deliver a blow no matter, "they've got a sayin' that whoever you are or wherever you're headin', all roads lead to the city on the hill. Now... by my way of thinkin', there's an entire world of trouble out there dead-set on distractin' you from what you've got to get done."

A look at her face would have told him if she understood what he was trying to tell her, but the shadows were too thick about them for him to properly gauge her response. He placed a hand on her upper arm, and dragged it up her bare shoulder, his thumb catching the double strap of the camisole she wore and the bra underneath. While a part of him wanted to linger over the bare strip of skin concealed underneath the two straps, he slid his hand on and upward until he was cupping the back of her neck with his hand. He wanted to make sure that her eyes would be trained on him and he would have all of her attention.

"I say we stick to the plan," Wyatt murmured. "I signed on for this to keep you safe while you deal with the stone, and its what I intend to do. If the kid wants to tag along, so be it."

With his hand on her neck, he felt her nod; he could feel her pulse quick and hard against his fingertips, contrasting to his own. He didn't like saying the words that reluctantly crossed his tongue; in any event, the safest place for Tory had been Central City, and he'd all but waltzed out of there and straight back into the thick of things. Aside from taking yet another wayside to the Tower to put the kid in a cell, there was nothing to be done – and besides that, Cain would rather keep him close and under his own watch.

"Don't think I'm upset by the fact that you've not got it in your mind to hurt anyone," he told her, and pulled her into his arms again. She burrowed close to him, her arms sliding into his duster and wrapping around his back. She was warm despite the cold, and he thought her emotional state might have something to do with it. Sighing, he rubbed her back. "You've got enough guts for an entire regiment of Easterners. I just wanna know that if it comes down to it, you're gonna be able to fight for yourself, even if it means endin' the one who's tryin' to hurt you."

DG was silent, and he knew she wasn't too keen on answering him. "Just stay with me," she said finally, so quiet that he almost didn't hear her over the light patter of rain above their heads. It was letting up; almost time to get her back to the house.

He wondered if she knew there might come a time when he wouldn't be able to follow her. He'd already begun to wonder when that point was going to be – and Zero's goading on the subject hadn't helped his mental state any. But for now, Cain wouldn't allow his focus to drift away from the task at hand. Getting DG and the Emerald safely into the Forest – and Gods willing without detection, that was his immediate – and only – priority.

Times like this, Cain was thankful DG wasn't able to read his mind. She might have had a fit of anxiety if she could see the bleakness that dominated his thoughts. They stayed still for a long while, breathing into each other and listening to the rain, until the princess shifted. Moving slowly, she unwound her arms from around his torso inside of his coat; her hands ran slowly up his chest before loosely wrapping around his neck. Her movement forced him to readjust his hold on her, and his heavy hands settled on her waist, her fingers grazing the light, gauzy fabric that covered her back.

"Kiddo," he whispered; he had to clear his throat before continuing. Her body relaxed against his, her breasts pressed tightly between them. With a sigh, he returned a hand to the back of her neck, sliding up slightly to cradle her head in his hand as his fingers tangled in her hair. He kissed her because he knew it was what she needed and only that reason. He would never have admitted that he _wanted_ it as well.

Her lips were warm and full underneath of his; Wyatt meant with all his heart to keep it simple, but she pushed up on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss, her tongue lapping at his closed lips and begging for entrance to the warmth within. Surprised at the soft moan that escaped him, Cain allowed her to take control of his mouth. His fingers played in the hair at the back of her neck, keeping his other firmly planted on her waist to stop his fingers from exploring her the way they itched to.

Cain all but tore away as he gulped for air. She seemed to have sucked the oxygen from his lungs; he mused momentarily that she just might be able to undo him with that single kiss. "I'd best get you back to the house," he muttered.

He could hear a laugh in her voice, the barest bones of it. "I think you'd best keep kissing me," she all but demanded. Smirking, he swung them around and pressed her into the wall. He let go of her neck and bent slightly to grab her by the backs of her thighs; from there, it was no trouble to lift her and pin her into place. Her denim-clad legs wrapped around his frame as she tried to anchor herself; he found himself grateful she was wearing pants, as it would stop this from being too easy. He'd have more time to talk her out of it – although his mind was readily going over all the ways he could take her even dressed as she was.

"Don't make me carry you back to the house," he said, dropping his voice low as he whispered into her ear. It was every inch a threat for her to stop what she was trying to do.

"Gotta hold me to carry me," DG said breathlessly, taking up his challenge. She squeezed her legs tighter. Cain bit the end of his tongue to force back a groan.

"Princess," he said, exasperated. She was hot in his hands; how could she be so warm when he himself was near shivering from the damp night?

She laughed; damn her, she _laughed_. _"Tin Man,"_ she retorted cheekily. She was playing with him, most likely in an attempt to divert her thoughts from the looming future, the pounding drums of Fate that grew ever closer to her. She couldn't escape it, but she was willing to try her damnedest to forget about it for a while.

As much as he loved DG, Wyatt Cain wasn't about to allow himself to be anyone's distraction. The desperation in her movements told a different story than her light words. He'd promised himself some time ago that he wasn't about to have her whenever she made eyes at him; he had much more respect for the position she held in his life, even if she didn't. Something about the girl twined around him, whose mouth was sweet against his own, always overrode the notions in his own head about bedding a woman that wasn't yet his wife. Maybe her lips were just that sinfully convincing, because it always seemed to start with a kiss.

With twinges of regret, he put her down. She moaned in disappointment, the sound so lustful to his ears that he had to lean down and seal his lips against hers, wanting to take in every last second of it from her. When he pulled away, he tried to make himself as clear as possible. "I'm takin' you back to the house," he told her, catching her chin in his hand to make sure the proper attention would be paid. "You can walk on your own two feet, or you're goin' over my shoulder."

"Are you asking me if I wanna do it the easy way or the hard way?" she giggled, drawing out the mood as long as she could, but she knew it was over and he was serious. He didn't blame her for wanting something more.

Wyatt leaned in and placed his mouth next to her ear, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke. "We both know the answer to that one." Releasing her face, he trailed his hand down her throat, her collarbone, over the swell of her small breast. A deliberate brush of his thumb over the taut peak of her nipple through her clothes made her gasp. Satisfied he was getting in the last word on the subject, he gave her a gentle but purposeful nudge toward the path that led to the house.

"Let's get movin'. We could both do with some sleep."

* * *

***

* * *

Jeb was stuck.

What exactly the Lady Catt wanted from him, he didn't know.

If the witch knew about his past with Azkadellia, she didn't outright say. But her voice, thick with innuendo every time she spoke to him, hinted otherwise.

He thought back to his time with the Resistance; he'd been one of a handful of leaders scattered throughout the Outer Zone. There was little communication between the camps, and except for that of Andrus, leader of the Northern faction, Jeb hadn't known any of the names of the other leaders. Authority changed hands so often as men were killed, or sent to the mines in the Black Mountains. He had often doubted – when he'd had time to think on the subject between trying to keep his men fed and an ear out for the movements of the Sorceress' soldiers – that any of the other leaders knew of the scruffy Cain boy who'd found an entire camp under his command. Though they'd all learned his name in the end, after the fall of the Sorceress.

Ironic that now the Longcoats would remind him of the former Resistance. A hatred for Azkadellia burned through the encampment, and Jeb knew very well that if his own ideals concerning the Queen ever came to light, he'd find himself strung up for gutting before he'd be able to talk his way out of it.

There were only two schools of thought on the subject.

He could run.

Or... he could stay a bit longer. There was a lot to learn yet, a lot to hear. The Lady Catt seemed keen on keeping him close, and was too confident in her superiority over the royal army that she didn't guard her words all that closely.

All he had to do was stick around and listen. The information would be of use to the generals.

Every hour spent in the Black Forest only served to reaffirm his loyalty to the Gales. He remembered the hushed tones spoken around the fires of the Resistance camps, whispers given up to the night for fear of retribution.

"_... Long live the Queen."_

With an internal, inaudible sigh, Jeb shifted uncomfortably at the entrance to the grand tent that served as the Lady's quarters. Dark had long since fallen, and he was still standing where she'd told him to hours before. She poured over the book that was opened on the table.

She kept making demands of the book, and most times the book was compliant.

"Show me the garrison at Morrow," she would mutter, and stare for a few minutes at the picture she was shown. And then, "Show me the Ice Palace in the Northern province," or "Show me the junction of the River Nwyn and Kiat River," or sometimes "Show me Gale Square in Central City."

The Lady Catt kept a close eye on Azkadellia; Jeb could hear the voice of the Queen floating through the tent. Always tired, and always quiet and sad. There were times when the book seemed quite unwilling to give up information. There were times when the words spoken by those being watched would become garbled, like too much static interference in a radio signal.

"What are you talking about that's cloaked in magic?" the Lady Catt would wonder aloud, tapping her long fingernails on the tabletop. The sound was beginning to drive Jeb mad.

He kept his thoughts off his father, roaming the countryside. He kept his mind off DG, dragging his father by the hand as she went about her secret business. Jeb himself was glad he had no knowledge of _that _tryst. He'd rather not know what trouble those two would be finding. He'd heard more than enough already from the Lady's mutterings, and it made his stomach churn.

No, it wouldn't hurt to stand here and listen. Listen to the Lady Catt talking to herself about Emeralds and Slipper princesses. Listen to the men outside the tent take bets on how long it would take _this_ witch to get her hands on the stone, or on the supple, yielding body of the Princess DG.

Listen to the voice of Azkadellia run in and out of focus as she spoke in secret with Ambrose.

Long live the Queen.

* * *


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Back to school has completely drained me._

_

* * *

  
_

**Chapter Thirty Two**

Cain stayed awake most of the night, his mind overcoming his body's need for sleep. In the earliest hours of the morning, when midnight was still too close behind to be considered gone, he made himself comfortable on the back porch, sitting atop the lid of the wood-box, leaning back up against the house.

There were still questions that nagged at him, demanding answers, mostly concerning Tory's role in the path DG was choosing for them to follow. He had never given too much thought to the directional guidance DG was receiving from her mysterious mirror companion. No, he'd been more concerned over the road before them, the physical dangers that lay in their path. The fact that she always led them in the right direction kept him from worrying too much about it.

As for the events of the evening... the kid had solid reasons for wanting to be involved, Cain couldn't doubt that. No, what bothered Wyatt more was the kid's source of knowledge; also, a little more importantly, the truth behind the inclusion of Zero in the fray.

Staring out into the night, he thought of DG asleep somewhere at his back. Safe and sound within the home of the Longcoat who had destroyed Cain's life, and murdered his first wife. Cain had long begun to control his impulses, the urges to bury a bullet in Zero's brain every time the man's mouth opened, but the build up of bitter rage was becoming a powerfully painful presence during the days.

The freezing rain that had welcomed the group to Fog's Bank had all but stopped. The dripping eaves of every corner of the farmhouse kept perfect rhythm, and eventually began to lull Cain into an uneasy doze. An hour of slumber was eventually found in the darkest hours of the night, and he awoke to the greyness of pre-dawn lightening the sky.

"_What's your plan, Son?" Jowan asked him._

Cain said up a little straighter, shaking off sleep as his back left the side of the house. The air was cold, and the clouds of his breath were the only evidence of life and movement in the stillness of the morning.

"_We stay our course. Nothin' changes," Wyatt replied as he straightened a twisted leather strap on the mare's bridle. The two men were hurriedly preparing the horses for departure in the stable at the perimeter of the Commander's underground barracks. _

"_Situation's changed," Jowan said cryptically. He kept his voice low and talked into the blanket that covered the back of the horse he was saddling. The guards standing near the far end of the drive-bay took no notice of the conversation. _

On the back porch, Cain got up slowly off the wood-box. His desire was to clear his head and force out the ringing memories. The pictures in his head were too clear and too loud, and he wondered if the spell DG had touched him with had something to do with it.

Cain was off the porch and across the yard without much more thought. Before he was halfway to the barn, his pants were soaked from the knees down from the moisture that clung to the grass and weeds.

"_Situation's always changin'," Wyatt said with a grimace. "Gonna be plenty more we don't know about until too late from here on out."_

"_And you intend on trusting Zero throughout this... shall we say, time of unrest?" Jowan asked with a smirk. It was obvious the old man found the idea a little amusing, and a little unnerving, and the result was a grimace across his aged face._

"_We'll make do," Cain muttered. One of the Commander's soldiers, an Outlander of considerable bulk, was walking up the drive-bay toward the two men._

The barn was dark and silent. Cain heaved open the wooden doors. Inside the building, he stopped to look around. Almost everything in the barn was faded and caked with dust from lack of use. The straw scattered across the dirt floor was mouldy; it didn't crackle beneath his feet as he stepped on it.

Cain raised his blue eyes upward to the ceiling, where one-inch spaces between the boards allowed him to see up into the second-level – or would have, had it been anything less than cloaking darkness. An attempt to light a lantern hanging on the wall failed; the kerosene had evaporated. Cain let loose an exhausted sigh as he made for the stairs in the dark.

"_I've got to say, Boy, I've never seen the Commander put as much trust into a human as he's putting into the little Slipper princess," Jowan said after the soldier had walked past. _

"_You ever gonna quit callin' me 'boy'?" Cain evaded._

_Jowan snorted a laugh, quietly of course, the man's unwavering calmness despite the subject material was to be commended. It had been more than a while since Cain had felt he had something to learn from someone, but the old man was making him second guess himself._

"_I know I don't have to tell you not to let your guard down on the road," Jowan said. "Or to take your eyes off that princess. From the things I've been hearing around the base the last couple of days, the two a'you will be lucky to make it out of them woods alive."_

Cain made no attempt to quiet his footfalls as he mounted the stairs, keeping his pace slow to make each dull thud of his boots on the planks all the more intimidating. With every upward step, he banged a fist on the wall, making as much noise as possible. A muffled curse and a crash sounded as Tory fell from wherever he'd perched himself to sleep.

"Who's there?" the kid called out.

"Rise and shine, Junior," Cain said clearly. "You and me are gonna have a talk before we set out today."

Tory became immediately defensive at Cain's voice, though he had yet to lay eyes on the man. Across the loft, Cain had come to a stop at the top of the stairs and waited for the kid to say something or make a move. He didn't have to wait long. With a large amount of fumbling and a bit more colourful swearing, the kid had lit a lamp at the bedside. Illumination flared throughout the room, dim and weak as the light was. In the flickering shadow, the kid's face was haunted and pale, and terrified.

"Must be good," Tory said, "to get you out of bed this early."

Cain rolled his eyes. "I've been up most of the night thinkin'," he replied. "Mostly about you."

"Of course. Its a lot to wrap your head around," the kid said. "I guess you've probably got questions."

"Quite a few."

Tory sighed, and sagged into an old chair. "Well, shoot." As the words fell out of his mouth, his eyes wandered down the diagonal strap across Cain's chest, the only visible evidence of the holster and revolver worn at the Tin Man's side.

"You seem to know more than a fair share, Kid," Cain said; he slowly walked the wall away from Tory, eyeing up the scant furnishings of the loft, and the assortment of junk hanging from nails and hooks on the walls. An old shaving mirror, the glass dirty and streaked, hung from one such nail. Cain reached up and tapped the glass, noticing that the kid was unusually quiet. With a frown at his own reflection, Cain continued.

"You've been pushin' DG along ever since Central City, and you shoved her into Zero," Cain said low, the line of his lips deepening as he paused to consider everything that had run through his mind as he'd sat on the porch, staring out into the rainy night. "Evasion and riddles, outright instruction. You hinted at the Queen's personal troubles weeks before – " Cain stopped himself and shook his head. "You're gonna have to start talkin' here at some point, ya know."

Tory opened his mouth, tried out a few incoherent, babbling syllables, and then promptly shut his mouth again. He sighed, and then he laughed – a high sound that was akin to a giggle. "It all sounds so ridiculous," Tory said. "If I hadn't been living it, I wouldn't have believed it myself."

Cain bit back a growl. He wasn't here to play run-around with the kid. "How do you know the things you've been tellin' DG," he said, and nodded back toward the mirror behind him.

"The same way DG knew the way out of the base the Commander imprisoned you in last year," Tory said. "And the same way she's gonna know the way into the Black Forest."

"The Gale," Cain said unhappily; damn, meddlesome spirit. The events that had come to pass since the beginning of the Emerald War were very much beginning to tarnish the idealized version he'd held of the first Gale queen in his youth.

The kid ran a nervous hand through his shaggy brown hair and looked up at Cain with hopeful eyes. "I am not a Reader, or anything like that. I can't see the future. I only pass on the information I'm given."

"Is it dreams?" Cain asked, a bit incredulously. Even if none of this was new to him, he wasn't liking it one bit. All this guesswork, wispy bits of foggy memory, unsure steps on old, untravelled roads were beginning to wear a bit thin on his patience.

"Yeah," Tory said with wide eyes. "Started a little over a year ago. I was on the Other Side... living with this really nice lady. You know, she used to – well, that doesn't matter. I was gonna have to move on in a few months anyway. I could never hang around for too long before people started to notice I wasn't getting any older..."

Cain rolled his eyes, cleared his throat. He wasn't here to go on a waltz down the eternal memory lane this kid harboured.

Tory got the hint, and continued on hurriedly. "I started having these dreams about a girl," he said, and took a deep breath. "Every night for a week, I dreamed of this girl. Flashes, little bits, sometimes more. I saw her wake up alone in the middle of a forest, I saw her stumble through meeting a man with a zipper in his head, and I saw her bust open an old iron suit."

By this point, Cain had stopped moving about the room and was staring straight out at the kid. Tory didn't seem to notice; he was staring at his hands in his lap as he recounted what Cain had asked him to. "When she – no, you, it was you that cut open the sac – well, when _you_ let the Viewer out of the Papay snare, I knew something from back home was calling me. Trust me, I didn't want to believe it."

"Sounds like some dream," Cain said, a little unnerved that someone unknown had been aware of their trials before the Eclipse. Tory only shook his head, taking a deep breath before returning to his story.

"I didn't recognize most of what I saw those nights. Central City was falling apart, the Fields of the Papay were dead. My father's winter palace was frozen inside a mountain of ice." He gave a short laugh. "But it was the O.Z. I was seeing. Things that were taking place, or had already taken place... I saw it all. I saw the Sorceress defeated a top the Tower, the suns come back out. I don't think I'd missed the O.Z. that much in all the years since I'd left as much as I did when I woke up the morning after _that _dream."

"So you came back," Cain offered.

Tory shook his head. "No, not right away. The dreams didn't stop then, and I started to see other things. I saw the old witch who had done _this_ to me take a new body, and rally the Sorceress' fallen army. _That_ is when I decided to come back. I left a mess and now its come back to bite me in the ass. What kind of person would I be if I didn't try to fix this?"

Cain tore his eyes away from the kid and went back to walking the loft. There was only a few inches of clearance between the beams and the top of his head. In the darker corners, away from where the kid had cleared himself a space to sleep, there were bulky pieces of discarded furniture, covered in dingy grey sheets much too small.

He had to admit, if only to himself, that the kid's story had an element of truth about it. But he wouldn't fool himself, not even for a minute, into thinking that Tory was doing all this selflessly. The kid wanted something for his effort, and Cain had a pretty good idea of what it was.

"You're planning on taking me along, aren't you?" Tory asked, unable to hide the hopeful lilt in his voice. There was age and experience in the kid that belied his youthful appearance, his unlined and freckled face, but there was still something about him that was stuck perpetually in the teenage annuals of his physical appearance.

"Long as you don't prove to be too much of a nuisance," Cain said, his tone non-committal and steady. Tory hopped up off his chair, a small grin on his face, but Cain wasn't done; the Tin Man held up a hand to stop the boy. "You've still got one more thing to explain."

Tory frowned. "And that would be...?"

"Sense of responsibility over what's goin' on in the Southeast or not," Cain said, "you aren't helpin' DG for no damned reason. You're fixed on askin' her for something." If he knew anything about DG, it was that she would bend over backwards in an attempt to help this kid, despite all the promises she'd made to others along the way, despite what she'd said during the night about _not_ wanting to help him. She would juggle it all, even if it killed her. The kid knew nothing about that kind of selflessness, Cain could read it in his dark eyes.

"There's nothing DG has that I want," Tory said, and damn him, but he did sound honest. "Aside from helping me take care of old Catt, that is. I was paying attention, you know, down in the Realm of the Unwanted, and I know what the Reader asked DG for. If DG can help me get rid of the witch once and for all, I can guarantee her the book."

* * *

***

* * *

"_Who here out of the men in this room haven't lost someone already?" the man at the podium demanded._

_From his place hidden outside the door, out in the cold night, Jeb was shivering, but he listened intently to every word that was spoken. If his mother ever found out where he was, he'd be in for a lashing. If his father found out – another violent shudder ran through him at the thought._

_The meeting was becoming heated. The force of the words being slung about had his mind and stomach reeling. He'd sneaked out of bed in the dead of night to follow his father to this meeting, to hear for himself the horrors that his mother was trying to shield him from._

_Talk of towns burned to the ground._

_Shouts of men having their skulls opened and their brains divided._

_Deep, chilling whispers that the Resistance against the Sorceress was fast losing its most valuable ally. He didn't quite understand what 'vapours' the men were speaking off, but the word was spat out upon the floor like a mouthful of raw meat. _

_And finally, words brought up and quickly quelled once again. Rumours of men losing their very souls, sucked from their bodies as breath._

"_That's only gossip," called out one man near the back of the hall. "Wouldn't be anyone to tell the tale were it the case."_

_Jeb had to wonder, as he pressed closer to the door that hid him from view, what a person would have to do to make the Sorceress that angry. Something in the pit of his stomach was telling him that the rumours weren't false, and that the men inside the hall had reason to fear retribution from Azkadellia._

_Maybe these men were fools to resist. Jeb thought back – regretfully, painfully – to the night he'd been torn from his bed by his father. Outside his window, screams erupted from the city below, gunshots rending the night in two. In a rush, his father had explicitly instructed him to neither speak nor move, to keep his eyes closed and his ears covered. "Once you're out of the city, you _do not_ leave your mother's side. Do you understand me, Son? _Do not leave your mother's side..._"_

_Would it be so hard to accept Azkadellia as ruler? To keep your head down and pay lip service to this new queen? Surely, less people would die._

"_There's one I would like to hear from," said the man at the podium. His booming voice reached even Jeb, outside the doors, listening with his ear to the crack. "Mr. Cain has come out of Central City. Ain't that right, Cain?"_

_A deep familiar voice sounded then, and Jeb risked a peek into the meeting hall. In a chair near the middle of the room sat his father; he'd recognize the pale hair anywhere. "You'd best be rememberin' to keep your voice down when speakin' my name," Wyatt Cain said slowly. He raised his head to glare at the man behind the podium, and Jeb was surely glad the burn of those ice blue eyes wasn't on him for a change. "I'm not here to offer you men a damn thing. I've got nothin' to say about what went on in Central City, or anythin' that concerns Azkadellia."_

"_Then why are you here, Sir?" the man at the podium asked._

_Wyatt Cain gave a low chuckle, and Jeb's spine gave a renewed shimmy at the sound. "What can I say," the elder Cain said. "Sometimes I miss the sounds of idiots arguin'..."_

Jeb was brought crashing out of his dreams by rough hands grabbing him by the collar and shaking him. Fighting his attacker off, he also threw himself off his cot and onto the hard, cold ground in the process. When he stood, Travers was staring at him, unimpressed.

"A little jumpy, ain't ya, Cain?" he asked, shifting his considerable weight from one foot to the other.

"Just dreaming," Jeb said, running a hand through his messy hair. "What are you doing here?"

Jeb had found himself whirl-winded about the camp after Lady Catt had taken a liking to him. From a sleeping roll in the shadow of a crumbling ruin into a small tent and cot near the witch's own. Travers had snorted and teased slightly with all the men when Jeb had retrieved his pack the evening before, but the young soldier's eyes had been haunted. Things were rapidly spiralling away from their control, and they needed to take it back before they were found out.

It seemed Travers had come to do just that. "We should be thinking about making our quiet getaway," Travers whispered. "The quartermaster was saying something about a munitions run into Byvasser today. I think with a little coercion he'd be willing to put us on the crew."

Jeb shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

Travers thought he was joking. Indeed, the man managed to laugh once, albeit nervously. His smile broke when he realized just how serious Jeb Cain was. "Cain, we're under orders to be out of here as soon as – well, as soon as possible," he said, cutting himself off before saying too much. If someone was listening, they would already have heard more than Jeb or his partner would have wanted. Judging by the quiet of the camp, however, it was unlikely anyone about would be awake.

"Your plan is good," Jeb countered. "Talk to Briones, butter him up a bit. You'll be walking out of the shield before you know it. Make yourself scarce before you reach the village."

"I'm not going to the generals without you, Cain," Travers said, "they'd eat me alive. There's also the chance you'll be found out and get yourself killed. I know this mission was considered suicidal to begin with, but Gods, man –"

Jeb raised an eyebrow. "Its an order. Now get outta here before someone sees you."

"Cain – "

"An order, soldier," he repeated, the conviction in his voice a lot firmer than he felt inside.

"I don't know what you think you're doing," Travers said as he backed slowly out of the tent, "but you're fucking insane for doing it. Andrus is going to have your head."

"He'd have me hung, if anything," Jeb said with a roll of his eyes, sitting back down on the cot and grinning at Travers as the man made his retreat. "Besides, he likes me well enough. I make him feel all warm and fuzzy about the future of the country."

There was a snort of laughter as Travers disappeared.

When he was alone, Jeb lay back down on the cot, his hands folded behind his head. He'd given Travers all the information he'd gotten about the Lady Catt and the book; the soldier would return to the generals, who in return would be able to prepare for this, and in turn protect Azkadellia and the country.

Another few days and he'd be out of here himself. He knew from listening to Catt talk – loudly and without fear of anyone overhearing her, ever – that the munitions run was set for the afternoon. Travers would be at the edge of the forest by nightfall. In the darkness, he could disappear away from the group before contact was made with Graham Hardy, the contact the ex-Longcoats kept in Byvasser, and their supplier.

There would be questions, to be sure, about where the hell Travers had gotten off to. Jeb would have plenty of time to prepare for that. As for now... it wouldn't be long before the shift-change came up, and he'd be back to staring at the canvas walls of the Lady's tent while she poured over the book and waited for her prey to fall into the trap she imagined she was setting.

* * *

***

* * *

When DG awoke, it was to bright sunlight. The first sun had risen; the second had yet to break the horizon. She stretched her limbs, and her hands hit the unfamiliar headboard. Her eyebrows raised curiously, and she sat up to take in the bedroom. The walls danced with shadow, and the air was filtered with dust, sparkling in the weak light.

She bolted upright and kicked off the blankets, her right leg getting into a bit of a scrap with the sheet. Her feet were on the floor when an amused voice said, "Hold up there, Darlin'. No need to rush."

DG's eyes found Cain easily; he was just closing the bedroom door behind him. It had been his stealthy entrance that had dragged her out of sleep. Calming down at the sight of him, DG reached for her slacks and tugged them on. She noticed that Cain's eyes followed her hands, up her legs and then centered at her navel as she buttoned them closed. A dark gleam in his blues sent a shiver skipping through her abdomen.

She turned her back to button her cap-sleeved blouse. She could feel a blush starting, and impulsive thinking was quickly overtaking her brain. "You let me sleep too long," she admonished lightly.

"Didn't think it would hurt," he told her, his tone low and restricted. She wanted to peek over her shoulder to see if he'd clenched his jaw uncomfortably as she'd often seen him do, but she thought better of it. "I had some things to discuss with the kid anyway. A late start ain't gonna affect us much, not today."

A little more than half a days ride separated the village of Fog's Bank and the Gale Tomb, where rested the Emerald. Considering just how much mileage she'd put on her sneakers since arriving in the O.Z. a year ago, it seemed a very, very small distance.

"What did Tory have to say?"

Cain shook his head. "Only thing of use he had to say was that the Gale sent him to help you. Says he wants to come with us, but he's more'n a little shy about it. He's got it in his head he's gonna be of some use to us."

"I don't see how. Not any more than he already has," DG said with a frown. She'd finished dressing and had begun to make the bed. The blankets and sheets were so tangled, it looked like a tornado had hit it. What little sleep she'd gotten had been plagued by dreams of yellow bricks and fields of red flowers.

"Neither do I," was Cain's reply. "Might be the Gale can give you a little insight."

She'd thought of that herself; Cain's suggestion only solidified it in her mind. It helped her courage immensely to have something to focus on, so that the nagging suspicions and nasty whispers of doubt inside would subside. The information Tory had revealed to her had all but blind-sided her; unseated, she wasn't sure what the next step would be. The possibility of answers soothed her, at least enough to function properly.

"Dependin' on how long your business in the tomb takes you, we could make it halfway to the Fields of the Papay by nightfall. Across the gorge by tomorrow night." Cain's tone was conversational, and a half-smile graced his lips when she gave a tired groan. "You gettin' sick of travellin'?"

DG's first response was a pale smile, before she shook her head. "All I keep telling myself is there's a quiet room with a big bed in the Northern Palace just _waiting_ for us to finish. I plan on hiding from the world and sleeping for at least a week. Maybe two."

"Waitin' for _us_, hmm?" he asked, crossing the distance between them with slow, careful steps. He caught her by the hips, and smiled down at her. "Its nice to know you've got faith in both of us livin' through this."

Panic flashed through her eyes at his words, there and then gone; her smile faltered nervously. "You... don't?" she asked.

"'Course I do," he reassured her, but she wasn't entirely convinced. "But you can't deny its all startin' to look a mite bleak."

She rolled her eyes at his gross understatement. "Bleak or not, I have to... don't talk like that, Wyatt," she said, putting her hands on his chest so push him away from her bare centimeters.

Cain's eyes were serious and troubled. There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth as she watched him fight with what he wanted to – or had to say. "There's a point where you're gonna be meetin' this problem head on instead of dancin' around it," he told her.

"You're talking about facing the Lady Catt."

He shook his head. "No, I'm talkin' about somebody puttin' the old witch down. Seems like no matter where you turn, you're the one that's gonna have to step up." Even as she read his face, she could see that he didn't like what he was saying, nor were the thoughts inside his head all that pleasant. "The boy says he wants you to help him. Might be that its the other way 'round."

DG closed her eyes. Dark thoughts filled her head, the emptiness she remembered from her first week in the O.Z. settling into her stomach. Suddenly, she wasn't feeling that well. When she opened her eyes again, she refused to look at Cain, instead focusing on the triangle of flesh exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt.

"Deeg," he said softly.

With a deep breath, she shook her head, then braved his eyes. He was studying her intently, his eyes familiar and yet different somehow, as if the shade had shifted ever so slightly with the weight of his words. "No," DG told him, forcing the frown off her lips. She couldn't quite manage to smile. "We'll focus on crossing that bridge when we come to it."

Cain's face immediately tensed. "You think a little foresight might be in order, Princess?" he asked sharply.

She didn't like the tone of his voice at all. Something was bothering him and he wasn't speaking up about it. She could take all day trying to pry it out of him with no guarantee of success. "I think, _Captain_," she said firmly, "that I would rather concentrate on the task I was given."

His hard stare did its best to penetrate her defences – it had been a long time since she'd had to raise them around him and she was a little out of practice. She looked away first, and when she did, he spoke. "That's fine by me," he said, his words clipped in poorly hidden anger. "While you stumble along worryin' about where you're next step is leadin' you, I'm gonna be half a mile ahead keepin' an eye out. I've gotta tell you, DG, I don't like where we're headin'."

All the fight went out of her then as he let go of her and made his way across the room. He wrenched the door open and waved an arm for her to go through first. His jaw was clenched so tightly that he said nothing. He only cocked his head slightly to the side as he waited to see what she would do.

What choice did she have? Swallowing hard, DG picked up the rest of her belongings and walked through the door, mumbling a quiet _"Thank you," _as she did so.

The second sun was up by the time they left the Foresters' land. Aleas had come out to the barn to see the group off, her loose dark hair poorly hiding the marks of passion that marred the white flesh of her neck; it seemed Zero and his wife had found some common ground on which to coexist at the end of their fighting the night before. Averting her eyes with a blush, DG tried her best to remember her manners when thanking the woman for her hospitality, but Aleas wasn't interested at all in what DG had to say. She saw off her husband dutifully, surely expecting to never see him again. She said nothing to the others that had been her guests, though her gaze lingered on Cain long enough for both DG and Zero to take notice.

It didn't help the mood any, and not a word was spoken by anyone through the village. A few curious faces peered out of windows to see the travellers pass through town, but the notice was short-lived and without incident.

Clinging tightly to Cain's waist, DG buried her face in his duster as the hours passed. She was tired, but didn't sleep. Her mind said that her body should be hungry, but she could feel nothing past the numbness nestled inside. The only comfort she gained in those long hours was that of the man in front of her and the Viewer riding beside them were still with her. It wasn't much, but it helped.

Sometime after the suns had passed overhead, when the day was bright and clear, DG realized that they'd entered familiar territory. She'd seen this ridge, these mountains, that lake before. The autumn colours were brilliant here, the early cold snap having hurried the transformation along. In Central City, were they preparing for the Harvest celebrations? She'd so looked forward to them, and now she couldn't quite remember what the date was.

A mile or so away from the Tomb, on the rocky ridge, Cain stopped everyone.

"Stay here," he told the others. Raw nodded in immediate compliance, while Tory looked wary at being left behind. Zero was utterly contemptuous of Cain's orders; the man busied himself instead with tending to his horse. As everyone set about doing something, trying to keep their hands and minds occupied, DG walked a little closer to the edge of the ridge, peering down the steep, rocky slope. The water below was so unbelievably crystal blue; the mountains and clouds above appeared in the calm surface of the water.

"You ready?" Cain asked her, as he stepped up behind her.

"I think so," she said, though she wasn't all that sure. "Lets get this over with."

Raw caught her eyes as she walked by, giving her an encouraging smile. Tory had wandered down the ridge. Leaving the others behind, she walked along a path she knew well. Soon they reached the tree-line, and began the uphill trek. The woods themselves bore no evidence of any presence before, though DG could remember vividly meeting her enemies in this same place twice before; the Sorceress when she'd retrieved the Emerald before the Eclipse, and after returning the stone, when the Commander's men had confronted her, and tried to kill Cain.

Before they reached the concealed doors, far out of sight of the others, Cain stopped them. He caught her by the hand, and she turned to look at him, wanting to smile but not finding the emotion inside to do so. She noticed, as he caught her shaking palm in his own steady one, just how anxious she was. "You sure you're ready for this?" he asked her. "We can rest for a few hours before goin' in if you'd rather."

She shook her head, and pulled her hand back. "No, I have to do this," she said. "There's no putting it off."

He gave her a half smile. "There's my girl," he said, and leaned in to kiss her. His hands came up to cradle her face, to tilt her head underneath the touch of his lips; sighing into him, minimal distraction going straight to her head, DG raised her own hands to place them on his arms, anchoring herself against him. His tongue swept along her bottom lip, tracing it before delving into her mouth again. She moaned, and he slid his hand a few inches to burrow his fingers into her hair. Holding her in place, he crushed his lips harder against hers, his fingers tightening on the tresses threaded between them. She moaned again, unable to help it; when finally he made to pull away, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth before allowing him to retreat.

"Go on," he told her, moving his eyes to the path ahead of them, where the door they both knew well stood hidden from eyes that searched for it.

DG nodded, and continued on. Her legs didn't wobble as she feared they might. As she approached, the doors swung open for her, sensing the magic deep within her, the sign of her bloodline evident in the air that escaped her lungs. No more flash and cheap tricks to gain entrance. She was certain of who she was and the magic of this place knew it.

She was expected.


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

_Author's Note: Yay transition. We're looking at a Chapter 40 finish. _

_

* * *

  
_

**Chapter Thirty Three**

Pitch blackness greeted DG and Cain as they entered the quietude of the antechamber.

"Well, this is new," DG muttered. The doors closed slowly of their own accord, cutting them off completely from the late afternoon suns outside. With a sigh and a gesture she couldn't see, she summoned a wisp that cast a pale white light. Her heart jumped a little as she grew used to the shadows that leapt about as the wisp swam in slow circles around her. _Nothing to be afraid of, _she chided herself. A guilty feeling crept up; she wasn't a child, did she really need a reminder that she was safe, even in the dark?

Cain wrapped his fingers around her shoulder. She turned to center her eyes on him, and gave him a weak smile. What was she waiting for? It wasn't like she didn't know the way.

Their footsteps echoed around them, filling the marble halls with more noise than had been heard in almost an annual; the faint squeak of her sneakers, the firmer beat of Cain's boots. There was no light in the central room, no soft white illumination shining down from above the well. She imagined the darkness down there to be thicker, more suffocating, though she was certain it was just the same as what surrounded her now.

She didn't stop at the stone railing as she'd done before, her heart so focused on the task at hand that it didn't even faze her to skirt the empty casket in which she'd almost gone mad. As an afterthought, she glanced back. Wyatt watched as her eyes settled on it. The quiet touch of his hand returned to her.

"Come on," he said.

_He's right. Its only another five feet,_ DG inwardly chastised. _Get your butt in gear. Every step forward is a step closer to home._

Cain hung back as she approached the doors. He didn't say anything, though she wasn't sure there was much he could. As patiently as ever, he'd wait for her.

The doors didn't open on their own for her; after a few seconds, she reached out and pushed. As her fingers connected with the wood, the iron plates shone faintly red, the Gale seal glowing ever brighter. The door was heavy and she put most of her weight into pushing it open. The wisp followed her into the vault, leaving Cain in the dark as the door swung slowly shut behind her.

Her wisp led the way, and DG merely followed. The long hall was as consumingly black as the central chamber.

DG cleared her throat. "Hello?" she asked the emptiness. Only her echo replied. Her heart began to pound a little faster.

Connected to her, the wisp always lit the path in which her feet wanted to go. When she reached the marble coffer at the end of the hall, she knelt down, and the wisp stayed stationary, creating a spotlight to the tiny drawer cut into the stone pedestal; she stared at the drawer far longer than necessary before opening it.

All the breath went out of her at the first flash of green. When her fingers closed around the Emerald, she was surprised at its warmth. Perhaps it was just that she herself hadn't been warm since leaving Fog's Bank that morning. She turned the stone in her hands, running her fingers over the uneven shape of it. The faint glow from within never flickered, never faltered.

_I'll be so glad to see you go, _she thought, addressing the stone in her hands. The Sorceress had burned Finaqua to the ground searching for the Emerald; the Commander had gone to great lengths to secure the stone from Azkadellia. Now, Lady Catt hid in her forest, conniving ways on which to get her hands on it.

Foretold by prophecy, found by chance. DG remembered back to the memories the Gale had shared with her, of the stone marking Dorothy, choosing her descendants as keepers until the time of the Eclipse, forever changing the destiny of the Gale line.

The power of the Emerald was temptation. Even had Dorothy Gale not beseeched her to destroy the stone, DG knew deep inside that something about the stone had to be done. She would not lay this burden on the heads of her children, or grandchildren. Not as had been done to her.

She closed her fist around the stone, and stood. "Are you here?" she asked aloud.

There was no response.

DG looked around, though the sights afforded her by the dim light cast by her wisp did nothing to stir any deeper feelings within her than apathy and regret. If she had her way, she'd never return here, not even after she died. She closed her eyes and fought off the wave of nausea that hit her at the thought of dying.

She took a moment to tuck the Emerald away into her pocket. What else she was supposed to do with it, she had no idea. She didn't linger in the vault; the absence of the Gale didn't intrigue her as much as it downright scared her. She'd been banking on the chance to speak with her namesake, to perhaps learn a little more about what she was supposed to do.

_This is a really bad time for a 'think for yourself, DG!' moment, _DG thought bitterly as she heaved open the door. She only struggled with it for a moment before Wyatt came forward to push it open with more ease than she'd managed. Relieved, she slipped out of the vault, the white-lighted wisp skipping ahead of her. It began a wide, circuitous path around the well at the center of the room, lighting very little past the railings. When she turned to Cain, she could see little more than the outline of his face. His eyes were lost to her.

"Everythin' all right?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I've got the stone, but... she wasn't there."

DG tried her best to guess Wyatt's expression as he spoke, but something about the evenness in his tone threw off her mental images. "Not there, hmm? So you're back to flyin' blind." How could the man be so calm?

"No harm in that," she countered, though she didn't exactly believe her own words. "We've made it through worse."

"You keep on trustin' that wind to blow you safely where you wanna go," he said, and he affectionately reached out to hold her jaw in his palm. She turned her face into the touch, closing her eyes to the gentle wavering of shadow and light above them. Cain sighed deeply, and drew her to him, letting go of her face to wrap his whole arm about her shoulders. Sheltered, she allowed everything a moments reprieve; her body relaxed against his.

"Its worked so far," she said; she'd pressed her cheek against his chest, breathing in the scent of his skin and the forest beyond the tomb. They'd brought the dust of the road with them, reminding her that it was never far, that they weren't finished.

"We oughta get goin'," he said as if reading her mind. "If we can get the others up fast enough, we can be at the edge of the Fields of the Papay by nightfall."

DG smirked at the thought. "First thing when we get back to Central City, I'm talking to someone about the state of the roads," she vowed. "One bridge crossing the gorge is not enough."

"No," Cain said firmly, "first thing you're doin' when we're done is headin' to bed for a week with me. Maybe two. Remember?"

DG smiled, and leaned up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his neck. His skin was warm, and the taste of him lingered on her lips for a moment before disappearing. It took a moment to realize that she was calming down, that the dark and the quiet and the absence of answers weren't affecting her as much any more. With a wider grin, she tugged at his collar until he angled his chin just right to look down at her. The kiss she placed on his lips was chaste and soft. A promise, a reminder.

She led the way out of the tomb. The doors opened the way to the forest, the suns light near blinding.

Hass had joined the others on the ridge, and all waited in various states of agitation. Hass nodded at Cain when he saw the two walking up the ridge toward the group. Raw leaned against a tree, and Tory was crouched down near him, studying his own hands. At DG's approach, the kid hopped to his feet.

"We move out," Cain called out, giving his order before any of the others had the chance to speak or ask questions. In a very short span of time, they mounted their horses. The trip down the hillside was slow and careful, but as they reached the road, Cain picked up the pace, and they raced toward their destination.

The roads were empty and overgrown this far West, and travelling on horseback negated the option of cutting across country. They followed the road but met no travellers. DG found this lonely; her brain was stuck on the absence of the Gale, and she couldn't move past the worry, nor the sense of foreboding. She'd never believed in bad omens, why start now? The storm looming ahead of them was dark enough without her thinking she'd just been given an unlucky sign. The warmth of the Emerald against her leg didn't help the situation any.

She lay her cheek against Cain's back, and closed her eyes to the world passing as they rode hard East.

* * *

***

* * *

"I grow tired of waiting."

Cole flinched under the harsh green gaze of Cattacalisa. "The excavation of the temple goes on as planned," he said, hiding well the nervousness he felt. Across the tent, Jeb smirked at the floor. The ex-Longcoat could speak as calmly and coolly as he was able to the Lady, but there was no hiding the fact that the campaign had reached a dead halt.

"Oh, I don't care about the temple!" Catt said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Tell me about the contacts in Central City. Are they secured?"

Cole cleared his throat, his eyes finding the floor. "Alta Torretta is proving difficult to infiltrate," he admitted. "A week more or so will see our men in the palace," he added when the Lady gave an exasperated sigh.

"Unacceptable," she spat.

Jeb glanced up to see Cole's posture become slightly more guarded. "With all due respect, Madam –"

The Lady held up her hand, and Cole ceased speaking immediately. "And what word from the perimeter guards?" she asked sharply. "Is the royal army still sniffing around the shield?"

"Yes, my Lady."

Cattacalisa paused a moment, and placed her hands palms down on the table before her. The book was lying open, but the pages were blank. She had not consulted it for hours, which Jeb found more than a little odd. Finally, she shook her head. "Your orders remain the same. You are not to engage. Now when is the next shipment due to arrive from the village?"

"Our men have already left to receive it," Cole said hastily, spilling out his positive news. Jeb almost let a smile slip; Travers would be out of the shield by this time, and on his way to the generals by nightfall. "They will have returned with the munitions cargo by morning."

"And we're confident there will be no confrontation with the royal army?"

Cole nodded. "No patrols have been seen along the northern border; our men move beyond the forest only under cover of dark. They move as ghosts and won't be noticed, I assure you."

The Lady seemed not to hear him. Minutes ticked away, as she stared at her red-taloned fingers splayed out on the tabletop.

"And what of the stone?" Cole bravely asked, breaking the silence and the Lady's thoughts.

She let her head hang. Jeb watched the entire scene with masked intrigue, a look that might have resembled boredom. "The stone is still lost to us," she said bitterly. "It is the youngest princess that needs to be found before we have a chance at seeing the stone, much less obtaining it."

A heavy pause fell over the tent. Cole stood at attention, waiting for the Lady Catt to continue, while she seemed less inclined to speak than to stare at the blank face the book presented. After a moment, she began to tap her fingernails impatiently. "I must say I've just about had it with little brats who want to play hide-and-seek," she muttered. Jeb wondered just what she meant by this, but there was no time for him to ponder if before the Lady Catt was slamming the book shut and cutting into his thoughts.

"If DG chooses to hide," Cattacalisa said, a triumphant tone overtaking the frustration in her voice. "We will have to find her." She looked quite satisfied with herself at that moment, and Jeb had to fight down an urge to roll his eyes. "General Cole," she snapped, "I want scouts sent both to the North and to Finaqua. As soon as darkness falls beyond the forest. The brat's location must be determined, and there are only so many places that a princess can hide."

Jeb looked down at the floor. _Ohh, you've got no idea, lady,_ he thought. His face stayed truly impassive as Cole stormed past, ready to hand down orders. The Lady Catt began to pace behind her table, muttering seemingly incoherent babble that didn't reach Jeb's ears. A handful of minutes passed, and then another, and another. Jeb began to contemplate the army's chance of catching the scouts sent out by the Lady. Just as the Lady's forces were ordered not to engage the enemy while completely aware of their presence, Jeb was almost certain that the royal army and the generals were under similar instruction.

Azkadellia was wary of confrontation with the enemy, even though another war was threatening. He admired her unwillingness to use force of any means, but covert operations and –

"Cain!"

"Yes, my lady?"

"What are you daydreaming about?"

"Nothing, ma'am."

"What do you know of your father's dealings in the West?"

Jeb feigned slight confusion at the question. "His _dealings_?"

"Why was the brat princess in the West, and what cause did the Commander's men have to get involved?" she demanded. "Outlanders are notoriously neutral, Cain, and only fight for their _own_ causes." Then she laughed coldly. "Unless, of course, the pay his higher than what their slaves dig out of the mines on a daily basis."

"I don't know anything about why DG was wandering around the Western mountains," Jeb said. "She tends to do it a lot, though I can't say I know her reason for doing it now. And as for my father, he likes to play the hero, step in when he's needed. DG doesn't exactly excel at taking care of herself." The emptiness and detachment at which Jeb had refined during his time with the Resistance was returning, bubbling up and ever at the ready.

"It always seemed to me she managed just fine," the Lady seethed through her teeth. "Slippery little thing."

* * *

***

* * *

When the first sun began to descend below the horizon, they came to a crossroad. The road they travelled intersected with the Brick Route; it was here that their direction changed, and Cain called for a rest. DG's back and bottom cried out in thanks, and she groaned as she slid down to the ground. Cain's hands were there to steady her for a moment, and a glance that her busy brain told her was meaningful, before he was walking away. She saw more tension in his shoulders than made her comfortable.

DG looked around. The field they rode though were wild and untended, land that had been abandoned by farmers when the Great Famine had swept across the Outer Zone sixteen annuals earlier. Perhaps once they'd been cornfields, but only grass and wild grain grew now. Her eyes followed the lines the field created, stretching away from the road and off to – the sweep of her eyes halted suddenly as they landed on the old scarecrow.

"How..." was all she had to say as she jumped the fence, a move she'd practised often in Kansas. A sturdier fence she could balance the length of; she'd only ever fallen once.

Both Cain and Raw called out to her as she waded into the waist-high grass to reach the scarecrow, mounted high on a post and smelled faintly of mould. Its clothes were raggedy, and straw poked out of its sleeves. The face painted onto the canvas sack of its head held no expression. It wore no hat, which she found odd; she bent down and searched through the grass until she found it. She stood straight with the waterlogged felt in her hands.

DG craned her neck upwards again to see the face of the scarecrow. The expressionless face bothered her. Why wouldn't the maker paint it smiling? She remembered him smiling...

She shook her head. She'd never crossed through this field in her life. She didn't _remember_ the scarecrow, she'd _dreamed_ the scarecrow. That was the same as imagining it, wasn't it? Only... here it was, in the flesh... so to speak.

A screech sounded from above her, and she jumped back slightly as the falcon dove in and landed easily on the outstretched arm of the scarecrow. DG frowned at him, and twisted the old felt hat in her hands. "I know, I know, we have to go," she muttered to the falcon as she walked a slow circle around the scarecrow. "Quit being so bossy, Hass."

The falcon only stared at her with bright, sharp eyes.

DG turned as Raw approached; a glance back led her eyes straight to Cain, who stood at the roadside, waiting somewhat impatiently with a sway in his stance.

"I've seen this before," DG explained to Raw as he sidled up to her with a puzzled look on his soft features. She handed him the hat; he closed his eyes as he received it, but only shook his head after a moment, feeling and seeing nothing as he held it in his hands. His gaze remained questioning as he returned it to her.

"Scarecrow points the way," he said, nodding up at the scarecrow's arm.

"Points East," Cain called out to them. "Which is the direction we need to be headin' in, if the three of you don't mind."

He was right; coldness aside, he was right. The falcon took off from his perch, soaring an easy circle around the group before flying to the East.

DG reached up and hung the hat back on the scarecrow's head as best she could, raising on her tiptoes to do it. Even then, the hat sat lopsided, and she knew the first good wind to come along would knock it down.

"Aren't you supposed to say something?" she asked it as she lowered herself back down to the ground. With a sigh, she brushed off the front of the scarecrow's jacket, and walked away.

"There a lack of scarecrows where you come from, Kiddo?" Cain asked her as she climbed back over the fence.

Zero had already mounted his horse, and Tory was quick to follow suit. They'd remained silent through the whole time-consuming exchange, though Zero seemed to mirror Cain's impatience. The kid kept his mouth shut and his eyes to himself. Even if he was curious, he wasn't about to start prying.

DG mounted the mare first and Cain swung up behind her. "We want to reach the shelter of the orchards before dark," he reminded her; his tone was not unkindly, but the tension she'd read in his shoulders earlier was seeping into his voice. "Somethin' about that scarecrow got you bothered?" he asked as he settled an arm around her waist. With the opposite hand, he gave a tug on the reins.

"No," she told him, as he transitioned the mare up to a jog; Raw rode beside them, the others behind. "I think it means we're going the right way."

She felt his chest heave against her back as he loosed a long sigh. "That's good to know," he said, relief evident. His arm tightened around her waist as the second sun began to set.

They travelled until the moons rose, leaving the Brick Route that ambled a slow path toward Central City to cut across the Papay Fields. In the dark, they dismounted and walked on their own feet. More than once, DG thought she heard the snarl of a Papay. She imagined the grangers slinking along in the dark, watching the invaders with cautious curiosity. Though she knew there was nothing to fear from the Papay, her heart was pounding a fierce rhythm by the time Cain called for them to stop for the night.

They lit no fire, and settled down together as a group. After experiencing the cold and snow of the mountains, the chill of the central plains didn't bother her as much. The sounds of the night, both gentle breeze and creak of branch, punctuated the passage of time. No one spoke, and one by one they drifted off to sleep.

DG, however, only lay on her back and stared up at the sky above her head. Through the tangle of branches she saw a sky dotted with stars. She lifted up on her elbows, letting her head fall back to better take in the sprawling expanse above.

"Get some sleep, Kiddo."

She raised her head and turned her face toward Wyatt. He was sitting near enough to her that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted, with his back up against the trunk of the tree that sheltered them, legs stretched out before him.

"I should say the same to you," she whispered. "You've slept less than anyone."

"Ain't much sleep to be had, truth be told," he admitted.

Frowning, she sat up, and scooted closer. "Then let me keep you company."

With a sigh, he put an arm around her and gathered her to his side. "I'd feel better if you were sleepin'."

"Then humour me and close your eyes," she said, and shifted so she could look up at him. The light from the moons did little more than weaken the shadows that surrounded them. "You can't keep watch forever, Wyatt. No one is following us, and no one is waiting to ambush us. We're as safe as we can be."

"That's pretty optimistic," he said, and ran a hand over her hair to settle on her shoulder. "Considerin' how dire you've been last few days."

DG tried to smile. "Is it so wrong to want you rested and ready for when we _do_ find trouble?"

A gravelly chuckle got caught in Cain's throat. "That's a little better."

"Please sleep?"

He shook his head. "Not for a while, at least. Quit frettin' about me and close your own eyes there, Princess."

DG rolled her eyes, and sat up a little straighter. "Don't make me come up with something to tire you out," she said sweetly, giving him a grin he couldn't see. "I'll do it, I'm not afraid of getting caught."

Cain gave a low groan. "I'll bet you aren't, either." She felt him relax a little bit against the trunk at his back, and she settled into him once more, curling into his shoulder and resting her head just above his heart. Its steady rhythm pumped beneath her ear.

She closed her eyes; a shift and an unsteady breath from across the camp-site told her that they weren't the only ones awake.

* * *

***

* * *

Night had fallen on Central City, and Ambrose had gone for a walk to clear his head. The grounds were busy in preparation for the celebrations, so he'd headed upstairs instead. His feet had carried him through a half dozen hallways almost aimlessly until he reached a lift. Up and up and up.

He'd always loved the arboretum. The trees thrived now, showing the beginnings of what promised to be a brilliant show of fall colours. When he thought back to the ghostly sentinels that had towered toward the glass dome only an annual before, it sent a dreadful shimmy up his spine.

He wasn't thinking about the trees now, however. He was thinking about the kid.

Quite effectively, the boy had disappeared. Ambrose didn't know what to make of it. If he'd had no practical experience with the Ozian countryside, he wouldn't have thought it possible to disappear so completely, but he knew better. Without the manpower to search, there was no way to find the kid.

_A flock of Mobats would be pretty useful right now_, Ambrose thought. He shook his head as he swallowed down the disgusting thought. He'd had enough of the ugly beasts to last him a lifetime.

It was an unpleasant reminder of his past, and it knocked his sensitive brain off course.

He walked slowly up the main avenue, under a tunnel of reaching branches. His hands were stuffed in his pocket, fiddling with the bits and bobs he'd managed to collect over the day, turning each piece over in his fingertips. With each touchstone, he remembered flashes and images from his day. Beyond that, his mind buzzed, repeating over and over again facts that were meaningless. His thoughts were multi-layered and chaotic.

The kid was gone. Ambrose couldn't imagine he was in danger, nor that he was a danger himself walking around unprotected. If anything, the kid would return on his own.

_What if he's gone looking for DG and Cain?,_ Ambrose's better judgement nagged at him incessantly.

"Makes DG's kind of sense," he muttered to himself with a chuckle.

He reached the edge of the dome, leaving the the silent trees behind as he approached the glass. A thousand stars were reflected in the softly tinted glass, and a sea of lights spread out below the viewing deck outside.

Ambrose's eyes slowly focused on his reflection. His hair was a little more mussed than usual, given the late hour, and the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced. He'd always been a bit of a night owl, but the long nights of little to no sleep had long since started taking a toll.

Mind numbing exhaustion, one of the few clarities in his memories from his Before life.

With a frown, he jingled the contents of his pockets once before turning around and striding slowly back up the avenue toward the lift. He hoped his long legs would carry him to bed, but he wondered if he might end up in his study or in the library instead. Nights like these, he'd often found DG awake in her room, reading or drawing or playing cards with Corporal Hass. Together, they'd share the midnight hours.

Perhaps his feet would swing by her suite. There would be no swath of light spilling out from beneath the door, but the path might be familiar enough to put his heart and mended brain at ease.

* * *

_Author's Note II: Quick thank you to BookWorm37 for pointing out a coding error on my cast page. Also, feedback is lovely._


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. First Thanksgiving and then my son's 2nd birthday. Its an extra long one to make up for it._

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* * *

  
_

**Chapter Thirty Four**

DG awoke stiff and sore. She decided that the past year she'd spent in the yielding opulence of the palace in Central City had spoiled her; she'd give anything for her narrow, box-framed attic bed in Kansas now. Cain didn't seem a bit bothered by sleeping propped up against a tree. Then again, the time in the suit would have trained his body to handle any sort of discomfort, she realized with a wave of regret.

The fields around them were covered in a thin layer of fog. In the grey light, there was very little she could see beyond their camp-site. The mood throughout the group was wholly subdued. The only words spoken were those between DG and Wyatt as they'd woken and discussed, albeit very briefly, the day ahead and the road he planned to travel. After a few moments, he got up and went to wake the others, leaving her bereft of his solid warmth at her side. The morning was colder than she'd first thought.

Impatient, and a little jolted by Cain's indifference, DG began to saddle the mare herself as the others rose and stretched and made ready to leave. She could overhear Cain and Hass going over the route.

"We ride until we reach the village," Cain said. "I don't care if it takes half the night."

"Sir, perhaps we shouldn't push the animals," Hass argued.

"One last day isn't going to hurt the horses," Cain said. He glanced then to the horses, and caught DG watching. Quickly, she looked away, and focused intently on the buckle she was trying to work with numb fingers. There was a moments hesitation before Cain continued, unaffected. "We stable the critters and head out from the village on foot."

She tightened the front cinch, reaching up when she was finished to give Juniper a scratch behind the ear for standing so still. Something about leaving her mare behind in the village didn't feel right.

Raw walked over to her slowly, hands tucked against his chest. He didn't look any warmer than she felt. She wondered briefly if she could hold the Emerald in her palms and use it to warm her fingers. Reaching her, Raw made no indication that he planned to speak. So she began to talk instead.

"You still glad you came out here to help us?" she asked Raw with a smile as she adjusted the flank cinch.

Raw looked at her quizzically, head quirked to one side. "Raw is where Raw should be," he said. "No 'glad' in it."

Her smile disappeared. Funny, how he could comfort her with so few words, with the merest look in her direction with his dark eyes, or a soft touch of his fingers. How had she existed her entire life without friends such as these...?

Raw set to work saddling his own beast; he was just smoothing out the wrinkles in the saddle blanket when Tory walked over, his knit cap pulled tightly down over his ears against the morning chill. "Good to see everyone so eager to get moving," the kid said. He nodded over his shoulder to where Zero had joined Hass and Cain; even from the distance she stood at, DG could see the thin line Cain's lips had formed, and the narrow-gazed suspicion in Hass' eyes. She could feel their disdain at Zero's presence, both desiring nothing more than to knock the man unconscious and lock him away in a rusted, suffocating cell in the Tower. Or worse.

DG shook her head, tried to push it out of her mind. She knew that relying on Zero for help was wrong, that this dark secret kept hidden would never leave her for the rest of her days, but it had long since become clear to her that she wasn't pulling the strings. Daughter of Light, synonymous with puppet, pawn. The Gale playing scarce at the tomb only proved to DG that she wasn't to know what was coming. A trail of breadcrumbs, leading a weak trail she was to follow on blind instinct and common sense. She had her magic to help her, stronger than before... and at least she wasn't relying on her own long buried memories.

Tory said her name then, cutting into her thoughts. She went immediately back to her task, barely acknowledging his request to ask a question. "What did you promise him?" Tory asked finally. "To help. Zero, I mean."

DG frowned, finding the stuttering sentence less than endearing. She wondered how he could act so flawlessly fifteen, when, by his own account, he was older than her greatest great-grandmother.

"Freedom," she said low, muttering the single word and nothing else. The admission left an bitter taste on the tip of her tongue. Oh, burning, burning shame.

Tory snorted a laugh. "Well, that's what we're all after, isn't it?"

She didn't know what to say to that. She busied her hands and let herself become absorbed by the task of readying herself and the mare. When the saddle was secure, she reached down and picked up her sleeping roll and Cain's as well, belting them into place.

"DG unsure who to trust, who DG _can_ trust," Raw said, almost randomly. She looked up sharply. "Boy or Longcoat."

She cleared her throat, realizing she had nothing more to do with her hands. To avoid looking up at the two pairs of eyes that had settled firmly on her, she unbuckled the saddlebag in front of her and began to rummage through the meagre contents.

"No point in trusting either," she said after a moment. "We'll just do what needs to be done and go our separate ways." In another week, if all went well – as it seldom did, but she wouldn't focus on that – she would never lay eyes on either Zero or Tory again. In light of what was to come, of what they would endure together, she couldn't say she'd miss them.

"Well, I've gotta say that kind of stings, Deeg," Tory said. The genuine hurt in his voice caused her blue eyes to stop jumping around and settle on his dark ones. "Here." Without hesitation, he shoved up the sleeve of his sweater and held his bare forearm out to Raw. "Read me."

"No, that's not necessary," DG interjected as Raw looked at her uncertainly.

"Yeah it is," Tory insisted. He pushed his sleeve up a little higher, past the elbow. Goosebumps erupted on his flesh.

DG sighed, and nodded at Raw. "If you're up for it," was all she could say.

Raw balked; she could see the internal struggle on his face, and hated that he'd been shoved into this kind of position. Raw had often offered up his gifts to aid his friends, but it had been a long time since she'd asked him to use his heartsight to further her own priorities. After a frown and a low growl, Raw wrapped his fingers around Tory's wrist; his hold on the boy jerked but stayed strong. His eyes snapped closed, and his breathing quickened minutely. DG glanced at Tory, and saw that his eyes had slipped closed as well, that a look of pure discomfort had overcome his features. The connection between the two lasted under a minute before Raw broke his grip and let the boy's arm fall.

"Never has Raw met soul like this," the Viewer said sorrowfully; there were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. DG reached out and placed a hand on his arm. Raw squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from her touch. "Trapped. Angry. But... Boy not lie. Wants to help DG, wants to save O.Z."

A tiny smile played on Tory's lips. "Told you so." He walked away then; DG watched him heave his saddle off the fallen log turned makeshift saddle-rack and carry it over to the dun-coloured gelding that gazed at him reproachfully. Raw had gone back to his own horse, and seemed intent on shaking the entire thing off.

"Raw?" she asked tentatively. "Thanks. It means a lot that you –"

Raw held up a hand. "Don't say. Raw knows."

She didn't have a chance to argue the point because at that moment Cain broke apart from Zero and made his way to her. Suppressed tension followed his every step. Behind him, Zero was laughing and shaking his head, smugly amused by something. She looked around for Hass but didn't see him until the branch above Zero's head bounced lightly as the falcon took wing, disappearing quickly into the densely shadowed fog.

"Is everything all right?" DG asked Cain.

"Yeah," he said dismissively. "You three 'bout ready to leave?"

"Almost," she said, speaking for the others who were still bridling their horses. She tried to catch his eyes but he looked away, making a point to check over the job she'd done with the mare. She pursed her lips together, determined not to say anything, but that didn't last long. It never did. She caught hold of the sleeve of his duster and pulled him away from the others. He gave no resistance, but still didn't look at her. "Is everything all right?" she repeated in a careful whisper.

"As right as can be expected," he said, and finally fixed a piercing blue stare on her. Wilfully, she returned it. "A full days ride should take us near Byvasser. Zero plans on makin' the contact, though there's no tellin' how cooperative the man is gonna be."

DG swallowed hard. He'd just told her, without outright saying of course, when the reins would be handed over to Zero. When they would _all_ be effectively handed over to Zero. She forced down a shudder and looked away.

"What'll we do if he's not?" she asked.

"We'll have to cross that gorge when we come to it," he said, and then he smirked at his use of the expression. The actual, physical Crack in the O.Z. wasn't their only obstacle to be faced that day.

DG risked a glance up at him; he wasn't looking down at her, was looking out into the fog, into the fields that stretched onto where their eyes couldn't see. She wondered what he saw out there in the grey haze; with every minute that passed, the morning around them lightened.

As if reading her mind, he said, "We're wastin' our daylight." He put a hand on her back, effectively turning her in the direction he wanted her to go, toward the others. With a gentle nudge, he got her moving and was close behind her. If they were going to get anywhere that day, it would have to start with a single step.

Cain was determined to lead them as far and as safely as he could, of that DG was certain. The darkness that encompassed the future was more frightening than she cared to admit.

_Storm's coming._

_

* * *

_

***

* * *

Jeb's eyes followed the suns that morning. Dawn came and went; the hours marched fleetingly on.

News of the overdue shipment from the village arrived with impeccable timing.

The Lady Catt had asked his opinion; this fact alone had him on edge. The book lie forgotten, shoved away and half-covered by scrolls and maps. She'd been in deep conference with her generals most of the morning, an obsession with DG's unrevealed intentions taking over. Inability to find the princess urging her to search all the harder.

"Find the girl and you find the stone," she'd repeat to herself under her breath as she poured over the maps.

It was mid-morning when a perimeter scout charged into the tent unannounced.

Catticalisa's head snapped up, her face twisted in impatience at the interruption. "What is it?" she barked.

The young scout stammered at the furious wave he was greeted with. "There – there's trouble."

_Here we go,_ Jeb thought, eyes focused on the very edge of the table, where the book's spine poked out.

"What _sort_ of trouble?" the Lady asked carefully.

"The escort sent to receive the munitions shipment from the village hasn't returned, my Lady."

Jeb's eyebrows shot up; his poor attempt at concealing his surprise went unnoticed, as two of the generals Catticalisa had been meeting with both shouted out demands for information, drawing all attention in the tent to them. Jeb was overlooked. A moment later, the Lady Catt held up a hand and hissed for the men to silence. With great difficulty, the two generals managed. The third, Cole, stood back reservedly, eyes on the floor. It was this stony silence that Jeb found more troublesome than the shouts and curses of the others.

"When were they due back?" she asked.

"Two hours ago, my Lady," the soldier said promptly. "Men have already been deployed to search."

"From Shadow's Passage?"

"Yes, my Lady. Th–" The soldier paused, and cast a long, wary glance at the Lady Catt. "It is possible they fell under attack and were arrested."

The Lady Catt shook her head. "Azkadellia's men?"

"The borders of the forest have been thick with royal army scouts," the soldier said.

With a grand, sweeping gesture over the table, all the paper, maps and clutter on the tabletop was thrown to the floor with a faint ripple of light. All that remained on the wooden surface was the book. The Lady Catt snatched it up and cracked it open; she held it tucked against her body.

"What of Hardy?" she demanded of the soldier. "Where is my shipment?"

Jeb watched the man cringe under the barrage of the witch. "Our information is limited, my Lady. All is being done."

"No," she snapped. "Not all." She looked down at the book cradled in her arms. "Show me Graham Hardy of Byvasser."

A light shone from the page of the book, the brightness of the suns in the forming picture reflecting off her pale skin. Catticalisa shook her head slowly, anger causing her lips to curl. Every single man occupying the tent fell silent and listened to the beating of hooves coming from the book.

"He's on the run," she said scathingly, and threw the book down on the table, its pages still open. Jeb could see the picture on the page moving, the whir and blur of green and brown accompanied by the frenzied pounding of horseshoes on a hard-packed dirt road.

"He could be anywhere," Cole spoke up, jerking his chin toward the book. "There's no telling where in the Zone he is."

Catt was quiet and contemplative, and it chilled Jeb to the bone. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips twisted in a snarl. She paced behind the table with her hands on her hips, watching as her contact in the village ran for his life.

Jeb kept his eyes on the floor. Graham Hardy had been feeding information to the royal army for months; he had good reason to think his life might be in danger if something had gone amiss with the shipment. Had Azkadellia's soldiers intervened? Had Azkadellia finally come to the conclusion that action must be taken to resolve this conflict?

Something wasn't making sense. What had befallen the men who'd gone to receive the shipment from Hardy? And had Travers been able to slip away, or had he too suffered the same fate?

"General Cole," the Lady Catt said suddenly. "You are to lead a small company of my soldiers to the village. I want to know where Hardy has gone. Keep a low profile, and report back to me immediately. We'll deal with this quickly."

Cole stalked out of the tent. Jeb watched him go, realizing that things were spinning out of control. He'd spent the morning expecting the shipment to arrive with one less soldier guarding it. Neither the weapons or the men had made it back to the camp at all.

News came back a few hours later that the bodies of three of the soldiers had been recovered. The Lady had received this news with a calm that unnerved Jeb; he spent the next hour watching her carefully. She seemed to have shifted focus completely; DG and his father had been thrown right out of her thoughts once again, and the eye of the book was trained on the retreating back of the Byvasser informant.

The generals warned Catticalisa that the window of opportunity in which to launch their offensive against the royal family was shrinking ever smaller, and at an exceedingly rapid rate. She waved them off with righteous fury. She was confident that she would still come out with the upper hand over Azkadellia.

Jeb waited, and listened. And as he did, he hoped to hell and back that his father and DG knew what they were doing, and that Travers had broken past the lines and was on his way to Az's generals. Everything, including his own fate, rested outside his hands.

With his eyes closed and his head bowed, long forgotten by those he eavesdropped on, Jeb Cain silently sent up the prayer of lost children.

* * *

***

* * *

Wood smoke hung low in the air and tinted the village a hazy grey. There were no people on the streets, or at least, none on the quiet little avenue which the window faced. A few rooms had been rented from the proprietor of the public house, a handful of extra platinum thrown his way to make sure their presence remained unnoticed. Cain had reservations about staying in town; he'd wanted to make camp in the woods beyond the village, but DG had nagged and cajoled until she convinced him that running water, soft beds, and a warm meal would do everyone good.

Now, they were settled in as best they could be. Two small bedrooms were joined by a central receiving room and it was in this sitting area that they gathered to nervously pace in relative peace. She'd done laps around all four walls, scanning the few titles that graced the empty shelves, gazing into poorly done watercolour paintings and trying to see past the mistakes, the misuse of colour and brush-stroke. Finally, she'd come to a rest at one of the four windows, drawing apart the curtains with her hands.

It was at the window she became anchored, her breath fogging up the glass. Here, she found purchase from the storm brewing around her, and watched for Zero's return.

Zero had gone in search of Graham Hardy, a merchant who had contacts with both the insurgents of Lady Catt and the royal army. Hardy was a veritable font of knowledge, according to Zero, and would be able to tell them of roads, patrols, pitfalls, and just about everything in between. It was why the army had recruited him. Though, whether Hardy would be willing to help their clandestine cause at all, she couldn't guess. She couldn't imagine anyone wanting to dig deeper into trouble than this Hardy had already done for himself.

DG gripped the curtain a little tighter between her fingers. Behind her, Cain, Hass, and Tory had surrounded the dining table, a map spread out under the lamp. She didn't have to look at the map at all; in her mind, she could see it perfectly... still, she knew her route by heart, and didn't need any reminding.

"Central City is a day's ride North," Cain said. "Azkadellia's generals are parked here to the South." She imagined him drawing a line across the soft, worn paper. "Now, our problem is that our generals don't know they're bein' watched by Catt and this book. Its likely enough she knows every move they're makin' before they make it."

"That's another day's ride, isn't it?" Tory asked. "Lemme ask you something, what use is the invention of the automobile if you don't maintain the roads outside Central?"

"You sound like DG," Hass said, a smirk evident in his voice.

"That's because he's got a point," DG said, turning away from the window and the view of the dark streets below. Both Tory and Hass looked up as she approached the table, but Cain continued to study the map as if she weren't crossing the room, sidling up beside him, brushing his arm with her own. "The lines aren't going to change, Tin Man," she said slowly, nudging him. He turned his sharp blue eyes on her, and she refrained from backing away from the intensity of his gaze.

"Don't matter where the lines are," he said, and broke their eye contact as he let his head hang.

A heavy silence fell over the room. DG pursed her lips together as she stared down at the faint red and blue trails criss-crossing the map, cutting through expanses of green and brown. Thicker yellow lines snaked across the paper, all leading to the center of the map, where Central City was marked with the image of a glowing gem that resembled the Emerald. Central City, where her sister ruled from a shining tower; DG's eyes raked upward, following the curving yellow trail to the unmarked sea near the northernmost border, where her mother and father rested amid the icy beauty of permanent winter.

She'd promised her mother that she'd come to the Northern Island once her task was done. A goal that seemed almost attainable, and yet so out of reach that she wondered it if was all a lost cause.

"There's still one major problem," Tory said, shattering the silence. DG's eyes snapped up from the outline of the Northern Sea.

"Just _one_?" she asked with a scoff.

Tory ignored her. "Let's say Zero gets the exact location of where we bypass the shield from the informant, this Hardy guy. And let's say we manage to get into forest without being detected, and we make it to the shield without being captured, and hey, for the hell of it, let's say we make it _into_ the witch's camp."

DG looked down at the map again, to where the Black Forest loomed so dangerously close to the dot that was the village of Byvasser. Cain's hands rested on the edge of the table, his white knuckled grip tightening. She glanced up at him, only to see him staring openly at the kid, with piercing eyes that would have sent her running for cover.

Tory didn't even blink, only continued coolly. "Let's just say everything goes off without a hitch."

"Fine," Cain growled. "Everythin' goes off without a hitch. You'd better be makin' your point quick unless you want a little help along with it."

"My point is that we aren't going to be able to do this alone," Tory said, deadpan. "Between destroying the stone like she says she wants to do, and killing Catt once and for all, the princess and myself are going to be rendered pretty damn useless. Defenceless."

Hass straightened from leaning over the table, his shoulders squaring. "DG'll have us. You both will."

Tory laughed, and shook his head. "Catt'll kill you without a second thought," he said solemnly. "Cain, too. Maybe Raw, maybe not, she might see some usefulness in him."

From his shadowed corner of the room, Raw spoke up for the first time since arriving in the village. "Boy is right. Cain in danger. Corporal in danger."

"Everyone is in danger," Cain snapped, letting go of the table. "That fact was assured some time ago. The kid here means splittin' up. Sendin' him and DG into the forest alone with Zero, the rest of us bunkerin' down like cowards waitin' for the storm to pass."

"No," DG said firmly. "That isn't going to happen." She turned to Cain and put a hand on his shoulder, willing him to meet her eyes, but the blue of his gaze was settled on the kid, blatant and disdainful. There were butterflies in her stomach, damn little stampeding butterflies. "Wyatt?"

"Do you want to watch him die?" Tory asked her.

"She won't be watchin' any of us die," Cain said calmly, his own stubbornness showing through in his refusal to let anything affect him.

"She will if she lets you follow her into the forest!" Tory said adamantly. "Do you think she'll get one of her soldiers to do it, quick clean shot to the head? Or do you think she'll do it herself? You ever see someone have their soul sucked out through their mouth, Captain Cain? _Its_ _not pretty_."

Cain snorted. "Don't expect it is."

DG trembled slightly. A memory surfaced, forcing its way out of the deepest corner of her mind where she had shoved all her most unpleasant remembrances. A vision of watching death through rusted iron bars, of watching a man's skin grow grey and cold as his very life was drawn out of his mouth in a wickedly twisted imitation of a lover's tender kiss. The satisfied shimmer of the Sorceress' skin as the stolen energy flowed through her veins, both strengthening and weakening her.

"Would she –" DG started, then stopped. She closed her eyes momentarily, the onslaught of the memory still holding her in its grasp. She could recall – didn't want to! The Mystic Man's body hit the floor with a sickening crash; DG jumped. When she opened her eyes, Tory and Hass were looking at her as if she were insane. Cain and Raw, however, had seen her like this before, and stayed respectfully quiet. "Catt – can she do that?"

"Yeah," Tory said slowly, stating an obvious fact to an ignorant child. "You could, too. Or me... though I'll admit I'd probably kill myself attempting it. Its very old magic, and natural, the intent being –"

"Enough!" DG snapped, and the electrical lighting flickered. She looked around the room at the four men who were so very concerned about her well-being that they would put their own lives in danger without giving it a second thought. Or, perhaps they had given it a second thought. Determined to see it through, see her through.

Raw stood from his chair, a movement that was quiet and graceful. He said her name, his words as careful as the gesture of his hand as he reached out to her. A comforting hand, nothing more, but she turned away from him, mumbling an excuse to the others that she was tired, not feeling well, just a headache... she must have given them every one in her book that had never gotten her out of school, dress fittings, magic lessons, or benefit dinners.

She closed the door and locked it. No one followed her or called out after her; no one knocked.

With a sigh that shook her entire body, she crossed the dark room until her knees hit the edge of the mattress. She twisted her body and fell down upon the bed, and tried to shut out the image of the Mystic Man's final moments.

* * *

***

* * *

Wyatt Cain leaned over the table with his back to the bedroom door. He didn't need to look at the clock to know that not fifteen minutes had gone by since the last time he'd looked at it. He couldn't quite tell what was jangling his nerves more, Zero's ever-extended absence, or the princess' retreat into the bedroom.

"He's been gone too long, Captain," Hass said in a hushed tone.

Cain only nodded grimly.

Byvasser wasn't a large community. Sure, it had seen less destruction during the time of the Emerald War, but that was simply due to the denizens willingness to cooperate with, and even aid the Longcoats. Probably the first and foremost reason the Lady Catt had gone seeking allies here to help supply her army with provisions and weapons for her forthcoming assault on Central City and Azkadellia.

_And into the West, courting that sonuvabitch Outlander_, he thought darkly. They'd walked right into that one, and had been paying the price ever since. Would continue to pay, until the witch was dead and no longer after their hides with a vengeance.

"Longcoat will be back," Raw spoke up from his shadowy corner. "No other safe place to go."

Painfully slowly, the minutes marched past. Hass had taken up watch at the window, and Tory had taken a seat near Raw on the sofa. The boy's head was nodding, fighting sleep. Raw was so deep in thought, Cain doubted rogue Papay could have dragged him out of it.

With a heavy sigh, Cain ran his hand over his face. He walked a slow lap around the room, pausing by DG's door to listen for any noise coming from within, but he heard only empty silence. The hour was growing late, maybe she'd just gone to sleep.

Something the kid said had spooked her. The girl was a pale one, but she seemed to have gone another shade whiter when Tory had gotten onto the subject of death. Now, Cain couldn't put his finger on just what had gotten her all worked up, just knew that something _had_. She'd skipped out on them before he could see or ask just what it was. And here he was, left to speculate as he leaned fists-down on the table, brain trying to pull him in a hundred different directions and his heart focused on pulling him in just one.

Finally, a faint pounding up the stairs became the heavy footfalls in the hallway. The door to the sitting room was wrenched open; Cain's hand was firmly settled on the grip of his revolver and a flick of his eyes discerned Hass taking a similarly defensive stance. Zero entered, pulling down the dark hood covering his head to reveal his blonde hair and a particularly disturbing look marring his features.

"What went wrong," Cain demanded immediately.

Zero shook his head angrily as he extracted himself from the cloak. He threw it down on the sofa, close to where the kid was now jumping to his feet. Raw slowly followed the boy's lead and was standing while Zero looked around to regard each of the four that watched him.

"Where's the girl?" he asked.

"Sleepin'. What went wrong?" Cain repeated shortly.

Zero snorted derisively. "Hardy's gone. That wrong enough for you, Cain?"

"Hardy's _gone_?" Tory asked incredulously, coming closer to the table and the circle of lamplight at the center of the room.

Cain pushed himself away from the table hard enough to rattle it on its wooden legs; the slight panic in the kid's voice was more than unsettling.

"All but vanished," Zero confirmed. "Missus says he's off on business, but there isn't a business the man was in that took him any farther than a few spans outside the village. Any honest business, anyway."

"If the contact is missing," Hass said slowly, walking back toward the window. He pulled the curtain back bare inches as he peered out into the cold night, seeing more than Cain was sure he himself could. "That means that we're probably not going to be the only ones on the lookout for him."

Cain swore under his breath. "Corporal, I want the village perimeters scouted," he said, low and level. "And I want the streets swept. I wanna know if there's anyone skulkin' around out there that shouldn't be."

Hass nodded sharply, and left the room without a word. Easier, it might have been, to open the window and shift right there, but Cain wasn't complaining. He'd never felt exactly comfortable seeing a body shift, it was like prying into something that oughtn't be seen. Others might not see it that way – Tutor, for one, had never been ashamed or shy about his gift.

"The daughter looks like she might talk," Zero said.

"You ain't bargin' in there to scare the daylights outta some little girl," Cain said firmly, returning to the table. Palms flat on the wood, he stared at the spaces between his splayed fingers.

Zero laughed. "Then feel free to do the interrogating yourself, Cain," he said, a wide grin cracked across his lips. His voice dripped with innuendo, and it took most of Cain's fleeting restraint to keep staring at the tabletop instead of stalking over and slamming Zero into the wall by the collar – although that never failed to make him feel better.

"We make no decisions until morning," Cain said, addressing the boy and Raw. Zero, he could barely find the concern to even acknowledge. The man's usefulness was coming to nil, and most of Cain's conscience was leaning toward putting a bullet in the man's brain to save the lot of them – and the O.Z. – the bother.

But it was the kid in front of him that had convinced DG that Zero was her key into the forest. Some key, that didn't know where the door was he was meant to unlock. Godsdamn them all, but they were knee-deep in trouble.

Tory seemed not to notice or care that no one was actively seeking suggestions. "By morning, Hardy'll be nearly halfway to Quick City," he exclaimed. "Farther if he manages to wheel it."

Cain rolled his eyes. Quick City was in the distant Northwest, one of the last outposts before the treacherous North mountains, and about as far from the Black Forest as one was like to get without freezing to death. His notion of the kid as an ignorant Slipper faltered a little more with each passing day; the kid truly held an extensive grasp of life in the O.Z. Even after an annual, DG still had trouble dealing with the way things were – the differences between the Other Side and _this_ side. Tory had done a thorough job of convincing everyone he'd just been some lost kid stumbling about. The transition was a lot slower in Cain's mind than it was real to life.

"If he's on the run, there ain't anywhere he can go where that book won't find him," Cain said, head hanging as he regarded the grain of the wood his hands rested on. He threw all his weight into his arms, holding himself steady and still. Moving at that moment wasn't a plausible option. "We find out what we can from the daughter come mornin'. Then we head Southeast, see if we can't find a way to sneak in if it comes down to it."

An aggravated growl – one that didn't come from his own throat – reached Cain's ears, and he lifted his head in slight surprise at the kid. Tory had situated himself opposite Cain, with the table between. His dark eyes were sparking angrily in the lamplight. "You can't," he said simply, though fury seeped through the words.

"I don't recall you bein' the one to give orders around here," Cain said levelly. No doubt about it, he didn't like the kid's eyes. Too dark and deep and knowing in such a youthful face; an ultimate contradiction.

"No, that would be DG," Tory said with a smirk. "Remember, she's the one that's been marching your ass up one side of the country and down the other since you met her?"

Cain just shook his head and didn't answer. He thought of DG, most likely faking sleep in the other room. "We leave the village tomorrow," he repeated finally. "Isn't anythin' to be done to change that. We aren't stayin' here to sit on our hands."

"You'll get yourself caught and killed, Cain," Tory snapped. "I wish to hell you'd all listen to me. You and Hass might as well have numbers carved into your foreheads! And you want to take Raw in there? Yes, please, give Lady Catt a Viewer to play with. Make her job all the easier!"

A soft snarl sounded from the corner. Raw crossed the room and came to stand at Cain's side of the table. "Raw go with DG. No one dies."

"Stubborn, loyal idiots!" Tory exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "I know what I'm saying! Would you get it through that thick head of yours, Cain, and consider for a minute that I know what I'm talking about? I've got more years than the three of you put together!"

"If you're so eager to have us all partin' ways, you know where the door is, Kid. Maybe us loyal idiots will follow your noble example."

Throughout the exchange, Zero had stood quietly by, his jaw clenched as he watched Cain and Tory stand off with a map dividing them. Now he spoke up, his voice hoarse. "Get on to bed, Kid," he said. "The hero here says nothing is happening until morning. Wouldn't mind getting a few hours of sleep myself. Long walk ahead tomorrow."

Tory turned on Zero, glaring heatedly, but the words seemed to sink in. With a put-out sigh and a lot of mumbling, the kid retreated to the second, empty bedroom. Cain expected a door slam, but instead the door was shut softly and there wasn't another sound.

"It wouldn't affect me any if you decided to head into that forest and get yourself killed," Zero said coldly. "But I plan on doing exactly what I was brought on for. _Plan_ being the operative word. I suggest you figure out what you're doing before you get in my way. I'll do what needs to be done to make sure _I'm_ not the one on the receiving end of Catt's kiss."

He stormed out of the sitting room, into the hallway and down the stairs, the pounding of his footsteps carrying on in the lull that had settled down on Cain and Raw, the only two remaining.

With a steady hand, Raw folded up the map and handed it to Cain; his movements expressed more than if he'd tried to speak. Cain finally pushed himself away from the table, arms aching. His coat and hat had long since been abandoned on a chair; he thought about bunking down on the sofa for the long night ahead, but decided he wouldn't be getting any sleep until he checked up on his princess.

He put a hand on Raw's shoulder as he passed him. "Get some sleep," he said.

Raw chuckled gently. "Raw would say same," he said, shaking his head, "but Raw knows better."

DG's door was locked. Cain knocked softly, calling out her name. Moments later, the click of the lock sounded as the doorknob grew warm. Cain opened the door and slipped into the room without a sound. All was dark, and the only light came from the faint line spilling out from underneath the bathroom door.

Crossing the room, he knocked again. The door, unlatched, swung inward. DG was standing at the sink, half undressed and her hair damp, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was still pale, and she was frowning, and it took him a moment to realize at what, exactly. When he stepped close enough to put a hand on her arm, he noticed.

Inside the glass danced a ribbon of faint green light. It shimmered and shone, winding in and out of itself.

"What in –"

"Shh," DG hissed. She reached out and touched the glass. There was a flash as the ribbon of light connected with her fingertip. With a sigh, DG trailed her finger across the mirror, the light following obediently. When she finally dragged her finger away, the light gave another wink and disappeared.

"The kid?" Cain asked, catching sight of his own reflection.

DG shook her head. "No, someone else."

Cain raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"I don't know," she said softly, and caught his eyes in the glass. She turned and buried herself in his chest, and he let his arms fall around her waist, letting her take the lead. There was a slight tremble to her form, a chill that had settled over her skin like frost. "The Gale, maybe. Its the only option that doesn't terrify me, I think I'll go with it."

"So we're back to avoidin' the mirror?" Cain asked her.

"Like the plague," she said with a shudder. There was a beat of silence, and then she looked up at him with an inquisitive tweak at the corner of her mouth. "You staying with me tonight, Tin Man?"

Cain cleared his throat. "Came to see what sent you skitterin' earlier," he told her. She shifted the smallest inch toward him, pressing the length of her body against his, and he clenched his teeth to keep his hands from gripping at her sides. She ducked her head into his shoulder, unwilling to look at him and instead mumbling her answer into the collar of his shirt.

"It was nothing," she said, her voice so muffled by cotton and wool that he barely heard it, close as she was.

"Wasn't just nothin'," he insisted. "Its a little late in the game to be keepin' secrets, Deeg."

Her head snapped up and she glared at him, a ferocity in her blue eyes that he rarely saw – or at least, that was rarely directed at him.

"I am _not_ keeping secrets," she said adamantly. "You want me to come right out and say that I'm scared to death of something happening to someone because of _me_? Especially you, its –" She cut herself off, shaking her head as she ran her hands through her hair. The damp curls clung to her fingers.

"This ain't like you, DG," he said, trying to tone down the harshness that wanted to surface. It wouldn't do any good to have her going to pieces over the thought of what _could_ happen. Since when had she ever been the one to bat an eyelash in the face of certain danger and possible death?

"I think I'm just overtired," she said, and then laughed at herself, at her own obvious comment. They were all sleep deprived. The bed, with the sheets already turned down, looked mighty inviting to Cain's increasingly foggy mind, but he wasn't about to rest until he was sure the world wasn't going to shift underneath of his feet while he was out.

"Hardy's pulled a disappearin' act. You and me are gonna go talk to the his daughter come mornin'," Cain told her, as he put a hand on her shoulder and guided her not-so-gently toward the bed. She didn't put up much of a fuss, but she fought a bit against his influence. Never one to go easily. As she crawled into the bed and situated herself comfortably, he checked the window latches and closed the curtains. A sweep of the room proved nothing out of the ordinary, and he allowed himself a breath of relief.

"Where's the stone?" he asked absently.

"Put away," she said with a tired smile. "No one'll find it, even if they were looking."

He fought back a smirk. The answer satisfied him well enough. "I'll be outside your door if you're in need of anythin'," he told her.

Curled in the center of the bed, she made quite the picture; her head fallen back on the pillow, dark hair spilling around her as her arms were thrown casually, comfortably above her head. She was watching him expectantly, but he knew it wouldn't be long until those blue eyes closed on their own.

"There's no asking you to stay, is there?" she asked him, her voice breaking near the wind-down of her sentence. She yawned widely, too sated to cover her mouth. "I sleep better when you're with me."

_That makes two of us, Sweetheart,_ he thought with a frown. He didn't fancy the thought of spending the night sprawled out in one of the cheap armchairs that were scattered throughout the sitting room, but he couldn't keep a close eye on the others – the boy and Zero especially – if he were locked in here with DG.

"Sleep tight, Princess," he muttered as he leaned down to place a kiss in her hair. She placed her hand over his, where he'd placed it on the mattress to support his weight as he lowered himself to her. He stayed longer than he should, his face hovering over hers, their fingertips touching on the crisp white sheet.

"Goodnight, Mr. Cain," she said, her eyes slipping closed.

* * *

***

* * *

Armed and bitterly cold, the solitary soldier stood at his post. The darkness beyond the circle of light thrown by his torch was all consuming, but it didn't bother him much. Watch duty was an abysmal task, but there were worse things. He'd rather be out here in the fields than stuck guarding prisoners at the Tower, or worse, assigned to the royal guard in Central City. No, this type of work suited him fine.

Somewhere far at his back, the camp was hidden by trees, only the faintest light from the fires evidence of its existence. No one would know the camp was there, if they weren't looking for it. Exactly what the generals seemed to bank on.

Through the whisper of the wind and the rushing of leaves in the trees, another sound reached the soldier's ears. Straining to hear it, he slid the holding strap of his rifle off his shoulder and aimed his firearm out into the darkness.

"Hold!" he called out in a loud, clear voice that belied his nerves. This blasted darkness was playing tricks with his mind.

The sound came steadily closer; only a few moments passed before the soldier discerned the beat of hooves on the road. A rider coming forward at breakneck speed.

Lowering his rifle, the soldier reached out and removed the blazing torch from its mounting bracket.

"Hold!" he called out again, his voice carrying into the night. "Who's out there?"

The movement in the darkness caught his eye, and he mounted the torch again and raised his rifle just in time for the the rider to rein his horse in for a hard stop, the beast kicking up gravel as it tried to stop on a pinhead. The rider was dismounting and on his own feet, knees buckling as he hit the ground. The soldier's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the rider, his bloodstained clothes and face streaked with dirt.

"Take me to Andrus," the rider panted. "_Now. _Its urgent."

* * *


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**Chapter Thirty Five**

It was well past midnight when the whispers and rumours buzzing through the camp reached General Andrus, only moments before the road-weary soldier himself stumbled into his tent. With a muttered curse under his breath, Andrus threw down the documents in his hand.

"Report!"

Travers laughed darkly, holding a heavy hand to his ribs. He'd yet to see a medic, and was in dire need of one. Andrus himself found him a chair and helped to ease him down into it. "Things didn't go exactly as planned, sir," Travers said with another agonized laugh.

"Where is Lieutenant Cain?" Andrus demanded.

"Still... still in the shield, sir," Travers said, bending over slightly and grimacing as he did so. The young soldier drew in a shaky breath, and then began to cough. "He wouldn't follow me out. The old witch has taken a liking to him, and he's been by her side for the better part of a week."

"And he...?"

"Ordered me to get out," Travers said. "He's waiting on something, damned if I know what."

Andrus swore. With a sharp glance cast sideways, he hampered a torrents worth more. "How did you escape?" he asked the young sergeant in front of him. Gods, but he wanted Jeb Cain's head at that moment. It would be a one-way trip to the Tower dungeons for the boy when – and if – he returned.

"Snuck out with an escort being sent along the north road to the village," Travers said, and then suppressed a rueful smile with a shake of his head. "There was some _unpleasantness_ when the escort met with the contact."

"With Hardy?"

Travers slouched forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He regarded the floor instead of the superior who'd addressed him. "I wasn't able to get away as clean as expected," he said quite carefully. Andrus frowned as the beat of silence stretched out longer and longer. "Had to silence the escort, sir. Hardy was kind enough to help."

Andrus closed his eyes. "How many?"

"Three, sir."

"And how long until your absence is noticed and Cain is questioned?"

Travers looked up to squarely meet the general's eyes. "A day or two at most. There's no record I went out with the escort. But I can't stay here, sir. I need to move to a less sensitive location before she goes looking for me."

Andrus raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean magically? To my knowledge, there is no spell –"

Travers laughed, and Andrus turned his head to the side, wondering what exactly was so funny. Impatience was beginning to show through in his demeanour, something he rarely allowed. However, it seemed the involvement of Jeb Cain always heightened his stress.

"Not a spell," Travers said. "This is what Jeb –" And here he stopped and cleared his throat, "I mean, Lieutenant Cain sent me back here to tell you. The witch, Catticalisa, has some sort of book. Enchanted, the damn thing is. Called 'The Record'."

"A book?" Andrus asked skeptically. "What has this book to do with –"

"You don't understand, sir," Travers interrupted. "You ask it to show you someone, and it does. It tracks you down, no matter the distance, no matter if you're trying to hide from it or not. Its all rumours, hearsay about the camp but Cain saw the damn thing with his own eyes. The witch has been keeping an eye on the royal family and the army."

To say that his outlook of the war in its entirety shifted utterly was an understatement. Andrus weathered this news as best as he was able, but one thing became clear to him abundantly fast. Consulting the Queen came foremost in his mind, and his feet were carrying him to his desk even as his understanding of the situation was still being pulled out of the maze of questions popping up at him from every which way.

"Where is Hardy now?" Andrus asked the soldier even as he began to scribble a summons to the Queen.

"Rode for the Tower, tail between his legs," Travers said with a weak laugh. "Seems to think he's safer with the army than he is out where Catt's soldiers can get a hold of him."

"The better for us to have him in custody," Andrus said absently. Long minutes passed as he sealed the letter within an envelope. A messenger must be sent to Queen Azkadellia with all due haste. But something also had to be done about the soldier in front of him. Andrus sighed, bones aching. "Follow Hardy's lead and make for the Tower," the general ordered. "Unless you rather a detail escort you to detainment for your questionable actions during this mission."

Travers was on his feet. "N-no, sir. Yes, sir."

Andrus gave the soldier a brief pat on the shoulder. "Good lad," he muttered and left the young man behind in the tent as he crossed the camp to rouse his fastest messenger.

* * *

***

* * *

DG woke early, a heaviness in her chest that she could only account to dread making sleep difficult. The suns were an hour from rising, and the darkest part of the night had suffocated the room with a blanket of black. She settled on her back and stared off into nothing, thoughts racing on the same circuitous track, getting nowhere.

Her dreams had been silent over the past few nights, and it was becoming troublesome. It had taken a long time to get used to listening to what her dreams had to tell her, and applying it to life when some impulse in her brain made a connection. Now, without the guidance, the nagging hints or twisted visions, she felt a little lost.

Empty. Devoid of... something.

She rolled onto her side, eyes slamming shut. She tried to steal back the hour of rest that she would sorely miss by the end of the day. Her thoughts skipped back to her own room, her own bed in Central City. In these earliest hours, she'd often sneaked past a dozing Hass to her sister's rooms. Az...

DG rolled huffily onto her other side. The heaviness that had woken her bore down horribly at the very thought of her sister.

Az had always awoken before dawn; once, DG had found her sister alone on the balcony. Az had given her a wry smile, and muttered something about old habits dying hard. The Sorceress' obsession with watching the paths of the suns in the sky still drew Azkadellia from her bed every morning, compulsively without cause.

DG shook her head, sitting up with her hands over her face. She grumbled to herself as she climbed out of the bed, her mind set on a hot bath. If she couldn't sleep, she'd relax while she still could, damn it. But when the bathroom light flared and she caught sight of the mirror, the empty glass, she got an idea.

She put it off until after the bath, though it just wouldn't leave her alone, this brilliant idea frantically waving for her attention. After she finished bathing, she dressed and braided her hair. Quietly contemplating what she was about to attempt, she eyed the steamy mirror warily again and again. Using magic shouldn't make a person so jittery, should it? Cool and confident, like Azkadellia, that was how she'd wanted to be since she was a child, chasing after Azkadellia's skirt through the fields of Finaqua.

Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer, excitement rearing its head. DG gave her hands a loose shake. Tutor's calm, rational voice blandly repeating his encouragement rang through her head as it always seemed to when she was about to try something monumentally experimental.

She placed her hands, trembling as they were, on either side of the mirror's frame. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to soothe her own nerves as she thought, as placidly as possible, of Central City, of her sister – and more specifically, the Queen's bedchamber where her sister would hopefully be. She felt the warmth of the spell on her skin more than she felt the ripple of energy that coursed through her fingertips and into the cold glass. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the hazy reflection of herself had disappeared, and she was now looking into something quite different. Keeping one hand on the mirror, she swiped the other across the glass, clearing away the fog.

The lamps were burning low in Azkadellia's sitting room, but no amount of darkness could hide from DG the familiar setting, the rooms that had once belonged to her mother and father. From her vantage point, she guessed she was peeking in through the mirror over the fireplace.

Her shoulders slumped in disappointment, but she didn't release her grip on the mirror. With magic as new to her as this, she didn't know what would cause the connection to break. A little more practice, and – with a shake of her head, she chased off her distracted thoughts. Face screwed up in concentration, she closed her eyes and tried for the vanity mirror in Azkadellia's bedroom. There was a shift; the warmth in her hands increased as a faint ring of white light began to shimmer over her skin. She opened her eyes expectantly, only to be greeted with the same vision of Azkadellia's sitting room.

"Damn," she growled, and let her head hang. Short of shouting for her sister, there wasn't much else she could do. "Az, wake up," she whispered with a low chuckle, heart beating out a painful rhythm of broken hope.

An insistent knock sounded, and DG nearly jumped out of her skin. She let go of the mirror, and the darkened room within the glass brightened until her own reflection, pale and wide-eyed, stared back at her and Azkadellia's sitting room disappeared.

Another sharp, three-beat knock, louder this time. If it was time to go, then she was eager to get it over with; she was out of the bathroom and across the bedroom before the impatient Tin Man on the other side of the door had a chance to bang on it again.

"I don't remember ordering a wake up call," she said, smiling as she opened the door. She had to give the man credit; normally by this point he would have been lecturing her good-naturedly through the wood about promptness. But when her eyes settled on the dark, looming figure, she realized why he wasn't.

"Sorry to bother you, Highness," said Zero; his salute seemed so proper, so official but for the mocking amusement in his grey eyes.

DG refrained from taking a step back; instead, she tried her best to square her shoulders and wipe the emotion from her face. Her eyes skipped around the sitting room at his back, but none of the others were anywhere to be seen. "What do you want?" she demanded; it was too early for this.

With a rough hand on her shoulder, he shoved his way into her room. He closed the door behind him, and DG was forced to jump out of the way or be run over. "Its imperative, _Your Grace_, that your guards not follow us into the Black Forest," he said ostensibly, his words clipped.

"You came storming in here for _this_?"

Zero's jaw clenched. He seemed to be fighting off a tirade. After a moment of internal struggle, he said "I wasn't commissioned to lead a royal detail into the woods. Its you and the kid and that's all, Love. Otherwise we go no further."

"Where are the others?" DG asked, avoiding the fact that he'd just made a threat. She needed a moment to think on it.

"Sleeping, or downstairs eating," Zero said offhandedly. He went straight back to the subject she'd tried to drop. "I don't think you're understanding me, Princess." He was acting far too familiar and comfortable with her, and it made her feel exposed. "Send your guards back to Central City."

"No."

Zero shook his head in disbelief, and laughed. "Stubborn little Other Sider," he muttered. "Don't ever recall your sister being as headstrong as you, but then, the Sorceress knew how to keep her in line."

DG closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek to keep quiet. "You help us in exchange for your freedom," she said slowly. "That was the deal."

"I help another," he snapped, fed up. "There is a debt being held over my head that needs repaying, and the clock on it is ticking. I am under orders to aid you, Princess, in your _noble quest_, or whatever other nonsense you've got yourself believing. The Viewer and the shapeshifter are not part of the deal, and neither is Wyatt Cain." He spit Cain's name out upon the floor, and DG's anger simmered ever hotter.

"_Who_?" she demanded. "Who's orders do you follow?"

Zero laughed at her. "That isn't information I'm going to be divulging, so don't get your back up. Cain and the others _won't _be with us when we make for the forest today, so you'd better figure something out lest I have to take care of the problem for you." His voice left it in no way unclear what he meant.

"Out!" DG shouted; the door to the sitting room flew open of its own accord, slamming against the wall. Zero didn't jump, the expression on his face didn't change. He only eyed her with open anger and annoyance. He considered her for a long moment, before bowing his head and exiting her room. He left the door wide open, and it wasn't a minute later that Raw came hurrying in, eyes red and sleepy as he came to check on her.

The Viewer looked around the room slowly, before his eyes settled on the trembling princess, her cheeks pink and her eyes blazing. A soft breath deflated him. "Afraid of truth," Raw told her solemnly.

"Am not," was all she could find to say.

* * *

***

* * *

When the first sun broke the horizon, Wyatt Cain was crouched down with one knee in the mud, thinking about his son. Below him, down a gentle slope, the Old Road cut its haphazard path through the woods. To the north, the deafening roar of the river's crash and tumble rapids was diminished to a mere low rush.

Over the past hour, he and the corporal had checked out every road that left the village. An old wagon trail that ambled Southeast had perked his interest, but they'd moved onto the next location nonetheless. Now they overlooked the road connecting the village to the yellow bricked thoroughfare. At what point the thoughts of Jeb had crawled into his mind, he couldn't figure, but now he was plagued by them.

The early morning was unusually quiet, but the cold nip to the wind kept the world from stirring from its bed too soon. The quietude gave his brain time to mull over a great many things keeping busy usually kept at bay. He'd been successful in warding thoughts of Jeb off for most of the journey, had promised himself that he wouldn't let worry over his son interfere with the task at hand, and keeping himself and DG – and an ever-growing band of travellers – safe. This down time had his mind raging with the type of concern that always took him by surprise. He wasn't a worrier, that was for damn sure.

Beside him, the corporal shifted uncomfortably. The half-frozen ground was less than inviting, but Wyatt had never minded the wet or cold.

"Would you quit twitchin' your tail-feathers?" Wyatt asked blandly, staring down the road that eventually led to Finaqua.

Hass cleared his throat in affirmation, and the fidgeting momentarily ceased. After a few blissfully still moments, the corporal shifted to his other knee, cocking his head ever so slightly. "I think I hear someone coming," he said low.

Cain listened, but heard nothing more than the distant rumble of the river. "You sure?" he asked.

There was a beat of silence, and then the corporal nodded. "Yeah. Rider's definitely trying to break some records."

Cain's brow knit together as he listened hard, throwing all his concentration into it. Not ten seconds had passed before he picked out the sound of hooves thundering up on the Brick Route. From the South, it grew louder and louder until he made out the moving figure coming up the road at breakneck speed. Cursing the weak light, it wasn't until the rider was practically underneath them that Cain got a good look.

"That's a royal army uniform," Hass muttered as the horse flew past; the rider didn't see the two figures on the hill watching his progress. "Messenger, you think?"

"Whatever dispatch he's carryin', its urgent," Cain said, watching the horse depart as fast as it had come. "With all four Guild generals in the Southern Province, he's makin' for Central City."

"In that much of a hurry?"

Cain frowned, eyeing the dirt and dead leaves he was kneeling in as he tried to hold onto the fading pound of horseshoes. "These days, its best to hurry," he said, and stood. He was certain he heard his old knees creak at the effort. This journey was wearing him down.

The brisk walk back to the village was ghostly silent. There had been frost overnight, and now each and every surface was painted with brittle fingers of white. As they entered the public house, the man who had rented them the rooms the night before nodded his head in greeting. Cain touched his fingers to the brim of his hat, but no words were exchanged and the two men crossed the room and mounted the stairs, the presence unnoticed and soon forgotten.

The others were awake, and had eaten. Minus the princess, they'd all congregated in the central sitting room, their mood decidedly subdued. Raw and Tory talked in the same secluded corner the Viewer had retreated into the night before; the conversation stopped, however, the minute Cain and Hass entered the room. Zero was watching out the window, as DG had done. At the arrival of Cain, Zero had turned toward the door and caught the Tin Man's eyes with his own. The hostile glare lasted only a moment before Cain turned away dismissively and went to DG's room.

He didn't have time for Zero's dramatics.

DG's door was unlocked, and he slipped into the bedroom to find her fully dressed, right down to her coat and shoes, laying atop the coverlet on the bed. She didn't move when he came in, and he realized she was asleep. She woke when he sat down on the edge of the mattress, his weight sinking in and startling her.

"You gonna be all right today?" he asked her as she pulled herself to sitting.

She managed a sleepy nod, but her groggy state had stolen all her words.

"You sure?" he asked her. "That stone ain't gonna weigh you down too much?"

DG reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out the Emerald. Its green glow tainted the skin of her fingertips as she held it carefully for him to see. "Its not as big of a burden as I thought it was going to be," she told him, relieved.

Cain raised an eyebrow as she turned the stone over in her fingers; her gaze was concentrated on it, and he could see green pinpricks of light in her eyes.

"So," she asked him slowly, carefully. "Do you think it will break into pieces? Or that its light will go out?"

"I haven't given much thought as to what's gonna happen to the thing," he said carefully. "Been thinkin' more on where we're headin' when its all said and done."

"We could go to the Ice Palace and avoid going back to Central City altogether," she told him, closing her fist around the stone. "And we can sort everything else out from there, can't we?"

Cain smirked at her hopeful tone. "Shouldn't be too hard. I'll take you North, and then I'll see about trackin' down my son."

"Are you worried about him?" DG asked, pocketing the Emerald. It seemed insecure, but then again, only a person with magic in their blood could take the stone from her. She could pass it on willingly to anyone, but he knew she'd die first... that thought didn't sit well, but he pushed it away. Back of the mind where all the troubles brewed.

"No," he said, feigning disinterest. "Just would like to know where he is, and if he's still breathin'."

"You don't want much at all then," she said. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and scooted closer to him. "And when you're done chasing down Jeb and checking him for bruises, you'll come home? You won't decide you like the wider world all alone?"

Cain nodded, giving her a half-smile for her jab. "Yeah," he said softly, reaching up to brush his knuckles over her cheek. "There's no place like home." He leaned in and kissed her, lips claiming hers in a breathless rush. She tasted as fresh as the morning outside, her skin under his hand soft and smooth. The moment was bittersweet, barely begun before he was pulling away, regretfully forcing them both to move on.

He had her on her feet and out the door in less time than he thought it would take. She seemed to have caught some of his seriousness, for her face was impassive and unreadable as he watched her come down the stairs behind him. It wasn't until they were across town and outside the general store that she spoke.

"So why am I here, exactly?" she asked. "Not that I don't love helping but... don't you just walk in there and glare and brood until she crumbles and tells you whatever you want?" She looked up at him, genuinely curious. "You're not going to yank on her ears, are you?"

Cain pressed his lips into a thin line. "Sometimes," he said stiffly, biting back a sharper response, "these things just require a woman's touch."

The store's interior was dusty and crowded. Cain looked around with interest, though he'd grown up living the life this type of store helped to sustain. Country life, quiet and slow-paced and relatively peaceful compared to life in the city. His roaming eyes drank in bags of feed stacked next to shelves of white china dishes, lanterns and canned goods and nails. The place was quaint and unassuming, but well supplied and did good business. _Hardy's no idiot,_ Cain thought as he strode slowly but purposefully toward the counter at the back of the store, keeping a close eye on DG's wandering all the while.

As he caught sight of the young blonde girl coming out of the back room, he wondered just how much the daughter knew about her father's business expansions.

"Something I can help you with?" the girl asked; she attempted a smile, but one look at Cain had her freezing like a doe caught in the headlamps.

Cain opened his mouth to speak, with every intention of bringing up a slew of questions the girl might not want to answer willingly, but before he could, the door was thrown casually open behind them, cutting off his words. Heavy boots on the wood floor sounded a dull echo that warned every nerve he had that trouble was behind him. They'd left coming here too long. It was time to make a quick – and discreet – exit.

"I wouldn't be tellin' those men a thing if I were you," he told Hardy's daughter, the razor edge in his voice causing her to pale as her eyes flicked to the new entrants still lingering intimidatingly at the front of the store. DG had gone rigid beside him and was glancing nervously over her shoulder. What she saw made her gasp; she whirled around to face him, blue eyes wide, lips pursed and white.

"Why are we still standing here?" she hissed.

Cain rolled his eyes. "There a back way out?" he asked Hardy's daughter.

The girl nodded. "Behind me, hallway leads straight outside."

Cain tipped his hat, seized DG by the arm, and made a swift escape. As he dragged the princess down the narrow hall, he heard behind him, "Something I can help you gentlemen with?" Cain felt a momentary wave of reprieve; whether the girl knew it or not, she created a decent diversion. DG came along easily as he pulled on her, but he couldn't take the time to stop and answer her stuttering questions.

Two soldiers from Catt's army in Hardy's store. As he'd suspected, Hardy's disappearance was causing a bit of a stir. If it muddied the waters up a little bit, who was to say they couldn't get through undetected? As he and DG exited the building through the propped-open loading doors, he kept her close to the wall. He had his hand on his revolver, but the caution seemed overdone. There wasn't another soldier in sight; but it didn't make sense for her to send just two. Where were the others?

There was a firm tap on his shoulder. "Why are we playing hide-and-seek?" DG asked him. Her blue eyes tried their very best to be brave.

"Catt's men were in there lookin' for Hardy," he explained shortly. "They catch sight of you.... well, they ain't catchin' sight of you. We need to regroup. I think we just found someone who knows the way."

"Well, that's convenient," she muttered, and he turned to her to see her smiling brightly. "Hey, do you think we could follow them back into the Forest?"

Cain didn't reply as he checked the street again. Once he was certain it was safe, he motioned for DG to follow him. It was troublesome to keep his strides even; if DG were running to keep up with him, they'd draw too much attention. It was an agonizingly slow stroll back to the public house. With every glance at his princess, he saw the wheels in her brain turning and a thousand questions building up in her sweet, little mouth. He had to admit, he was impressed and proud that she'd caught on so quickly to what he intended to do.

DG took hold of him by the arm as they mounted the steps and reached the porch. She tugged at him, her eyes pleading with him to take a minute and listen to her. That reproachful, angelic _"Please"_ stare she always seemed to manage so well, although if there was a part of her that was truly innocent, he'd boil up his boot leather for supper.

His lips stretched into a thin line. He didn't have much for her, nothing at all really.

The door burst outward; quicker than thinking, he had DG spun and pressed into the wall, leaning into her and hiding her with the panel of his coat. The princess was holding her breath, head tucked up against his shoulder; she'd gone completely stiff. A second pair of Catt's soldiers stepped off the porch and made their way toward the store on the far end of the street. In the clearer, stronger light the morning offered him, he saw a group of horses stamping and sending up steam in the field that rolled off behind the store.

"Wyatt," DG said shakily.

Heaving a deep, rumbling sigh, Cain rested his hands on her shoulders, and pushed himself to arm's length away from her. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were tinged pink from the nip in the air, and her shallow breaths came out in tiny, visible puffs before her.

"Those men'll be makin' their way back into the Forest," he told her as certainly as he could. "No way she's gonna have her soldiers runnin' cross country after one man. Not as wanted as those Longcoats are by the royal army."

"Then why send them here?" DG asked.

"Seems to me she's gettin' cocky," he said with a smirk; DG let out a breathy laugh that danced on the air in front of her. "This place is a safe enough distance, especially if she knows most of the army's strength is concentrated farther South."

Instead of responding, DG swallowed hard and leaned her head back against the building. The porch roof was shielding them from the morning suns, and her eyes seemed dark and haunted. Something was eating away at her, and it didn't take too much out of him to figure just what. It wasn't that she was scared of what she had to do – the kid had more guts than even she realized, though it had taken a long time to get it through his own head. Hell, he knew she'd march in and get herself killed if it was her life needed laying down to destroy the stone. It wasn't her own death that scared her, no, he doubted that thought had ever crossed her mind. No, it was the danger to those she loved – above all, himself and the Furball – that sent her blood running cold.

She was going to ask him to stay behind. Damned if she wasn't going to have the nerve to ask him to stay. She wouldn't order him, though it was in her power to do so. No, she was going to turn those blue eyes on him, misted over with bitter tears, and ask him to stay behind, to let her carry on alone.

Cain glared hard at DG and willed her to do it. If he turned it all off, the worry and the possessiveness and just washed his hands of it all, surely he could just stand by and let her walk away. She was a capable girl; he was no fool and he wasn't going to act like one and deny the fact that she contained more raw power in her than any fury of nature could ever conjure up.

He tried to catch her blues but they skipped nervously away like stirred-up butterflies. Cain raised his own eyes skyward in exasperation. The girl could go toe-to-toe with an Outlander but she couldn't face up to him. Frowning, he ran his rough hands over her shoulders and up her neck, capturing her jaw on either side to train her face on him. Still, her eyes took in every part of him before she met his own eyes. She almost winced at the intensity of his stare, but she held up.

"Deeg," he said, voice quiet and hoarse. Once he had her eyes anchored, she couldn't look away. "I know what you're thinkin', Darlin'. I can see it written over every inch of this pretty face." His thumb reached up and swept over her cold cheek. "You're gonna have to give me your reasonin' for it though, because damned if I can figure it out myself."

She gave him a nervous, fluttering smile. "Am I really that obvious?"

"A little bit, yeah." Sure now she wasn't going to look away, he lowered his hands from her face, running them down her arms to rest at her elbows. "And you'd best make it worth it, 'cause you don't exactly have the authority to demand I leave my post at your side."

DG's mouth crooked unhappily at the corner. "I'm getting this nasty feeling in my stomach," she said, and she centered her hands over her belly, fingers grazing the wool of her coat. "I know where I've been, Cain. I know what I can and can't do," she explained patiently. "And what I don't think I'm going to be able to do is get myself _out_ of this mess once I'm done getting into it."

"We've been well into the mire for a while now."

Another fleeting smile. "You're right," she acknowledged. "But I think I need a white knight, and you're insisting on being a damn red shirt!"

He raised a scarred eyebrow, his head turning to one side of its own accord in confusion.

DG put her hands over her face. "Nevermind," she said softly. "I don't think you can protect me from this, Cain."

"But you want me to try and _save_ you from it. Be a _white knight_," he said skeptically. She gave him a weak nod. Aggravated, he squeezed her elbows as his head hung momentarily. He didn't like that they'd been dragged into a damn fairy story. Stories meant the endings had already been decided, and he didn't abide by that one bit.

_It's not like you're waving her off and saying 'See you down the road', _he reminded himself.

"Trustin' Zero to keep you outta trouble ain't exactly high on my priority list," Cain said.

DG smiled, a bit of her spark showing through the misery in her face. "But we're not trusting Zero, we're trusting _me,_" she told him. "And we're not counting on Zero keeping me out of trouble. He's going to get me into it."

Cain chuckled then, unable to stop the gut reaction to the girl's audacity. She was better equipped to deal with the world's troubles than he gave her credit for sometimes, all heart and brains and courage rolled into a fiery little package, with enough magic in her to blow a crater in the ground to boot.

"I hope you know what you're doin'," he said. "I'm gonna have a hell of a time explainin' this to Raw and Hass."

"They'll understand," she said, with a little self-affirming nod. Without a word, without agreeing with her because he sorely didn't, Cain led DG inside and upstairs. The door was wrenched open for them before they'd even reached it, and the two slipped into the sitting room where the others waited agitatedly.

"Soldiers in town," Raw said as he hovered near one window, peeking covertly through the heavy curtains. "Not looking for DG. Looking for same man Tin Man can't find."

"Tin Man's stopped lookin'," Cain growled low, joining the Viewer at the window. A quick glance outside showed a gathering of the four men he'd already encountered outside Hardy's store on the far end of the street.

The next few moments passed in a blur of push and shove, leaving all feeling jolted and bereft, tumbled about by a twister and thrown to the ground again, disoriented and confused. Cain watched the entire scene with a detached sense permeating his body, somehow knowing all that was about to happen, seeing it before in the darkest places of his mind. The faster this was over with, the better, and so he stood back.

Zero stalked forward and forcefully seized DG by the arm. "Fork in the road, Princess," he said smugly as he yanked her toward the door. DG jerked her arm back again, running to Cain and throwing her arms around his neck. Wyatt stiffened, unsure of how to respond at her sudden cold feet when her lips were suddenly next to his ear and she was whispering to him.

"Az. Go get my sister. She can help, I know she can."

Eyes locking onto hers as she pulled away, Cain tried to read the girl in his arms. There was bravery set firmly in her face, as her eyes begged at him for something. His hands relaxed and he let go of his vice grip on her arms.

"I'll see you down the road," he said with a curt bow of his head. Distance, coolness, the only way he knew how to react to situations not of his liking.

"How long?"

"No more than two days, and I'll be right behind you," he said, sighing deeply.

She nodded, and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. She tore herself away from the Tin Man, turned her back and walked out of the room without a backwards glance. Zero followed her without a word, only a rough jerk of his head at Tory, who skedaddled behind and shut the door with a wave and a smile at Cain and Raw.

"Captain," Hass said loudly, with an incredulous laugh. "What in –"

"Follow her," Cain ordered, the command finding its way off his tongue as soon as it had crossed his mind. "Keep a close eye on her."

"Sir, with all due respect –"

"No, _you follow her_!_"_ Cain barked. "Things go bad, report to the generals. _Do not_ risk capture."

Hass nodded in understanding, glaring at Cain with disagreement sparking from his eyes. He was gone out of the room within seconds, shutting the door discreetly behind him, and breaking into a run on the stairs. Cain watched the closed door with a heaviness settling in his chest. He joined Raw at the window, catching the briefest glimpse of three bodies disappearing into the woods beyond the village in a generally Southeasterly direction, one with dark hair flying behind her as she was escorted along.

He shook his head, closed his eyes. The room was too quiet. It was going to take some discipline on his part to shift his focus away from DG, and the Emerald.

Azkadellia. She'd said go for Azkadellia.

After a few minutes of complete and utter silence, Raw gently cleared his throat. "DG have good reason?" he asked.

"Stubborn ain't a good enough reason?" Cain grumbled.

Raw's face was good-natured and serene, the smallest smile on his lips as he regarded Cain with a calmness the Tin Man found himself envying. Cain's eyes returned to the window, and the faint figures of four men on horseback, shadowy outlines in Hardy's field. They'd be easy enough to track; if Zero kept a patient head on his shoulders and the suns held out, the soldiers could be followed without the princess ever being seen.

"We have part in this plan?" Raw asked him.

Cain nodded grimly. "We have to move fast."

* * *

_(Author's Note: *ducks* Leave me one? My poor, poor muse feels a little unloved. Hence her malicious plot twists...)_


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

_(Author's Note: Thanks to all leaving reviews - and hello lurkers! Read and enjoy!)_

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Six**

Azkadellia had been thinking of her sister all day. _All day, _right from the moment she'd woken up, whispers cloaked in her sister's voice teasing her awake only to disappear once the veil of sleep had lifted. Her brain had registered the faintest, most far off knocking, but her rooms were free, and the startled guards outside her suite told her no one had come by.

The day hadn't gotten any better. She'd watched the suns rise over the city, glad to see them moving on their constant celestial path. It was becoming rare to be a part of something bigger than herself; the world around her moved at a pace that threatened to swallow her up.

She waited all morning for news of her sister, thinking that perhaps the dreams had been a premonition of some sort, but Ambrose didn't come bursting in from here or there in a rush. No, he was mostly calm today. He kept her company well enough, as if he were still watching out for her as he had when she was a child. The hours of the day melted away, and the afternoon found the two closed together in her office, doors shut tight against the swarms of self-seekers.

"Your speech for the opening celebrations tomorrow," Ambrose said cheerily, as he placed the cards on her desk. "There is a council meeting late this afternoon. The council members –"

"I don't want to speak of the council at the moment, Ambrose," she said tiredly, putting a hand over her eyes.

Ambrose's jaw closed with an audible snap. "What would you like to speak on, Majesty?"

Azkadellia didn't respond. Instead, she did something she found was becoming an increasingly common occurrence in Ambrose's presence... she _relaxed_. She loosened her shoulders and uncrossing her ankles. She tilted her head to one side to help relieve a kink that was forming in her neck.

"I dreamed of DG last night," she said wistfully, giving the advisor a wan smile when his dark eyebrows perked with interest. "And she's been on my mind since I woke up."

"Just a dream?" Ambrose asked. "Or something more serious?"

"I'm not sure," she replied honestly. "But I don't like the feeling its left me with."

Ambrose gave her a small smile. "Maybe you just miss her."

"I miss her a lot," Az admitted. "I really hope she's accomplishing something, because I don't think I can stand much more of this not knowing what kind of mischief she's finding." She sighed and looked down at her hands, the soft indentation in the side of her finger from holding a pen all morning. Across the desk, Ambrose was quiet and contemplative, the distant look in his dark eyes hinting that he might be lost in a very pleasant memory.

"You miss her too, don't you?" Azkadellia asked him. "Both of them."

His reverie disturbed, Ambrose gave a bashful smile. "All of them," he told her. "All the time. I think Tutor is becoming a little annoyed bearing the brunt of all my attentions. You know, DG used to call me high maintenance."

Azkadellia smiled, a true one that stretched her lips and plumped her cheeks. "What would she say now?"

"She'd probably say I've gotten worse."

Silence fell over the room then, comfortable in its emptiness. It was all too soon, however, that footsteps began to shuffle outside the study door, and the sound of muffled voices could be heard by both the Queen and her advisor. However cleverly she tried to hide, the outside world always managed to find her. Her guards were becoming anxious to escort her to the council meeting. She didn't want to alienate the chairmen, but no matter her action, she would always be in their disfavor. A group of disgruntled old men with memories as solid as bedrock remembered all too well the spoiled, demanding child she'd been. That she'd dethroned her mother and half-destroyed the country would never be forgiven by these elders of the city council, even if they paid lip service and carried out her will as she tried to rebuild.

Azkadellia sighed as she stood, bracing herself with hands on the desk. Ambrose hopped to his feet automatically, but the gesture still came off as practiced and polite. She smiled gratefully at him.

"Ambrose –" she began, but her voice was cut off by insistent knocking at the door. She nodded at Ambrose, who crossed the great study in a few long strides and opened the door.

The boy that came rushing in was dirty and brought with him the smell of a stable, wearing the simple uniform of a royal messenger. Azkadellia wrinkled her nose, but managed to straighten her face again as the boy approached, yanking out of his pocket an envelope.

"For you, Majesty!" he said importantly. "From General Peter Andrus. I have been asked to stress its urgency, Ma'am."

Azkadellia snatched the envelope away from the boy and went directly to the window, away from the eyes of those peeking in from the hallway. Ambrose gave the boy a pat on the shoulder.

"Go down to the kitchens and get yourself something to eat, lad," he said, giving him a forceful nudge toward the door. "The cook on the eighteenth floor has made Cyprus Delight for tonight, I believe." Once Ambrose had the door closed and locked, he went to the Queen, though he kept a respectful distance.

All of Azkadellia's attention was drawn into the letter. After a few moments, she'd finished reading it, and it fell from her hand as her breath caught in her throat. "This letter says nothing of importance," she said, her voice wavering momentarily, but she fought hard to keep it steady. "Andrus has requested my presence immediately in the South."

"But, Your Majesty, the council –"

_Oh, those damned old men! _she thought bitterly as she reached for her coat off the stand. She shook her head as she put on her coat, and then pulled on her gloves. The council members would not take being passed off to the advisors kindly.

"I'll meet with the council," she said shortly. "It can't be avoided."

Ambrose nodded, torn between being flustered over the delay in leaving and relieved about the council. None of them needed the hell that would be raised if the Queen disappeared when there was most likely a long list of trivial, time consuming items to be discussed.

"I'll leave as soon as the meeting has ended," she told him. "Ambrose –"

"Don't worry, Majesty," he said with a comforting smile. "I'll make sure all the arrangements are made."

"You'll accompany me?" she asked. She didn't make an order, she so seldom did with him. She knew he'd lay down at her feet, or DG's, or her mother's. He was wholly committed to the Gales, loved each of them fully and was adored by them in return. She felt a sweeping wave of appreciation for the man, but the moment seemed ill-timed to begin gushing sentiment.

"Of course, Azkadellia," he said, and he offered up another smile. She left the room then, her guards picking up behind her as she hit the hallway. Ambrose watched after her, worry increasing inside his gut. He was no fool, though he could sometimes he accused of reading too far into things. As he bent over to pick up Andrus' letter from where it had dropped to the floor, he wondered just what else the day would have in store for him.

He pocketed the letter without reading it. The letter would say nothing, all communications would be done in person once the Queen had met with her generals.

DG's wild goose chase of a quest, the kid's disappearance, and now the generals had summoned the Queen.

Shaking off his probing thoughts, Ambrose set his mind to arranging a car and finding a driver. It was a long journey South and there was no time to waste.

* * *

***

* * *

The paint had long worn off the wooden signpost hammered into the ground. DG wondered faintly what it had once read, if it had once given the directions she sorely needed. Well, whatever it _had _read, it now mocked her with its blank, faded face.

Ahead of them, the road was becoming harder to follow.

The glare of the late afternoon suns was waning. The harsh, bright light would soon begin to weaken and bow out to darkness. It was the setting of the second sun that she both dreaded and hoped for. They would stop pursuing the soldiers come nightfall. It would be impossible to follow in the dark, and they risked losing the trail and becoming hopelessly lost in the wetland that marked the edge of Lake Country.

Sitting on the driest patch of ground she could find, DG sat silently, watching her two companions. Tory hadn't spoken a word to her all day, which she found odd. Their eyes had met on more than one occasion during the hours they'd spent marching first over rutted country road, now through thick, tangled marsh, but not a word had passed between them.

Zero had also kept his distance from her, and DG had been thanking whatever lucky star she had, but it also made for lonely going. Even after only a morning and afternoon away from them, she ached physically for her friends. She missed Raw's calmness, Cain's stoic presence, Hass' watchful eyes. That she felt vulnerable and exposed without her friends, these vital pieces of herself kind of went without saying.

DG sat with her knees up, elbows rested on them, her chin balanced in her hands. She stared at the denser part of the woods. They were going to come up on it faster than she'd realized, and they'd be spending the night well into the depths of the Black Forest.

"_She says there's wild animals in the forest."_

"_Did she say what... _kind_ of wild animals?"_

DG shivered, and closed her eyes. Maybe she was chickening out, sending Cain for Az the way she had, but didn't see it written somewhere that she couldn't ask for help. Maybe this time around things were different, but one thing remained constant and true. She could depend on herself.

As she stood, stretching her back as she went, a glint off the road caught her eye. Stretching up on her tiptoes again experimentally, she saw it again, the tweak of metal catching the failing rays of the suns.

"What is that?" she wondered aloud as she hopped off her grassy embankment.

"What is what?" Tory asked distractedly, as he slowly turned his head to face where she'd been sitting. She was walking briskly past him a second later, and he called after her. "DG, where are you going?"

_Good question_, a little voice in her head chimed in. She made her way down a steep slope, where a muddy trail nearly hidden by the grass led over to a stand of tangled trees. The branches hung low, some touching the ground; as she got closer, she saw the eaves of a weathered roof poking out of a well-hidden copse. The wood was old, stained silver with time; the trees around the little cottage seemed to be trying to swallow it whole.

"That's far enough, Princess," Zero called out in warning.

DG ignored him; she could hear Tory crashing through the grass behind her as she approached the cottage. She ducked under a low-hanging branch, using it to swing herself upright. She stopped, her fingers touching the branch as she took in the lopsided old cabin. Windows broken, saplings popping up through the cracks in the porch steps. Vines were gradually claiming the carved wooden railing. A lot of blood, sweat, and elbow grease had gone into building the place, it was sturdy, but long, long forgotten.

Tory came to a halt behind her, the branch between them. He seemed hesitant to cross the barrier.

"Something wrong?" he asked her. His voice had a hitch to it; he was nervous.

"I don't think so," DG replied, searching for whatever had caught her eye. The jagged pieces of window glass still in the frames were coated green with grime. Nothing about the place shone or reflected light. Straightening her backbone, she skirted the edge of the grove, eyes always on the cottage, waiting for something to catch the light and throw it back at her. She heard Zero calling her name, sharp and commanding.

Finally, she saw it, around the side of the house. A branch above her head swayed just so in the breeze, and something metal winked at her as the sunslight hit it. She craned her neck, and took a step sideways. The ground behind the house was littered with stumps; an attempt had been made at clearing the yard, but by the looks of things the person – or family – that had lived here had halted their expansion and abandoned their land.

But someone had been left behind.

The recognition came faster this time as she crossed the yard in a few long strides. He stood with his axe raised high above his head, a final chop that never landed. All tin and joints and rust, the statue of a man. She felt a rush of longing sweep through the empty yard as the tin man stood poised next to a tree, frozen in time.

She reached out and ran a finger down his arm; a streak appeared, the metal beneath brightening.

"You're supposed to say something, too," DG muttered to him.

The tin woodman kept his secrets.

Tory came closer, finally braving the creaking branches overhead and the skeletal dances of the leaves that had fallen to the ground. "Is this it?" he asked. "What you saw?"

DG nodded her head slowly, looking at the grease and grime now clinging to her fingertip. "Someone put a lot of heart into making him," she said, her eyes finally leaving the tin woodman's striking figure to look around them. "We're nearly into the Forest. Sure would be nice to have someone like him clearing the way."

Tory gave a genuine laugh, which caused her to look at him and smile. "You don't want a good guy in the lead where we're going," he said.

DG frowned. "What would you know about it?" she asked cynically. "If you knew more, you could lead us yourself, and I wouldn't have Zero on my heels acting like he's got a leash around my neck."

"Zero is a necessary evil," Tory said slowly. "Didn't Cain ever get it out of anyone who let Zero out of the tin suit?"

DG shook her head. In all honesty, she didn't really care. The trees shifted in the wind, the rustle of leaves almost deafening. The tin woodman swayed slightly, and DG eyed his upraised axe warily.

"Its horrible inside those things, you know," Tory said, and reached out to tap one knuckle against the tin woodman's barrel chest; the clattered echo of an empty cavity came back to them. "Iron suits are every bit the torture they're meant to be," Tory continued. "Its only the Sorceress who added in the extra sadistic twist of the recordings."

DG's stomach churned. "I think we should get back," she said low, but her feet wouldn't move.

"Naturally, they're always really grateful to get out of there. The prisoners, I mean," Tory said. "Most men are only in there for a matter of months. Its a rare case that's in there for as long as Wyatt Cain was. Zero was only in the suit for eight or nine weeks."

DG sucked in a sharp breath. By the time she fought her way to releasing it, Tory was watching her with those dark eyes, sending chills through her. "You let him out," she said resolutely. There was no question in her voice.

Tory gave the faintest nod, a gesture barely there. "When he fell out of that thing, he tried to kill me," the kid said, and then rolled his eyes. "Didn't have much in him though, in that thing for so long. Once I started talking, well... he wasn't really in a position to do anything but listen."

DG hated what she was hearing, knowing it to be truth and resenting it like a child. "Why Zero?" she asked angrily. "Couldn't you have come directly to me without all this smoke and mirror bullshit?" The curse punctuated the end of her sentence, and the kid had the decency to look sheepish. He slid his hands smoothly into the pocket of his jeans, quiet for a few minutes while DG fumed silently, eyes focused on the two tin feet planted firmly on the ground, ankle deep in dead leaves. With a sigh, she repeated herself, voice demanding an answer. "Why Zero?"

"I only do as I'm bid," Tory said cryptically. "As do you. You know as well as I that neither of us would be out here in _this_ bog, on our way into _that_ forest, if we didn't have _your_ dead grandma pulling at our strings." He sighed, and kicked up the leaves around his feet. "Zero wasn't hard to convince," he said, giving her the answer she wanted. "A place to hide, employment with the Commander, and out of the O.Z. where neither the royal army or Catticalisa could find him. I gave him all that he needed."

DG glanced behind her; she could see Zero now, navigating his way through the maze of interconnecting branches that protected the little grove from the rest of the Zone. "I have a hard time believing," she said slowly, turning back to the kid, "that you had an easy time convincing Zero to help me." _Anyone_, really, let alone herself.

"The way he chooses to look at it, he's helping _me_," Tory said with a shrug of his shoulders. "And anyway, I promised him you'd give him whatever he wanted, and from what I hear of it, he didn't ever have to ask for a single thing. Cain just offered it outright."

DG frowned, listening to the approaching footsteps, the crackle of dead leaves being tossed about. "His life back."

"That Tin Man of yours seems to have a knack for knowing," Tory said offhandedly.

"That he does," DG agreed. She was more and more regretting every minute her decisions along this road, to listen to the ghostly voice coming out of her mirror instead of listening to her own gut, or to Cain's sound advice. Wyatt... he'd never hesitated to follow her, no matter if he disapproved or not.

"Sorry things had to happen this way. You'll see him again," Tory said seriously, seemingly out of the blue. DG turned into his honest gaze, trying to gauge for herself if she could trust this boy in front of her.

Another gust of wind stirred up the leaves scattering the yard. The tin woodman's joints gave a horrible groan, and she backed away from the raised axe, straight into a solid wall. Not a wall, it was softer, like flesh. Heavy hands descended on her arms with a grip that threatened to cut off circulation. Zero.

"Enough gawking, lets get moving," Zero said cuttingly, as he eyed the tin figure with disdain. "Kid, search through the house and shed, see if you can't find us some rope. Princess, I want you with me." He didn't loosen his hold on her arm, and gave her a hard tug to prove his point.

DG gave very little in the way of resistance, letting him yank and twist as he pleased. "What's the rope for?"

Zero grinned at her. "Its for later." She pulled a face at him, unimpressed. Zero gave her another hard wrench for it, and she nearly came off her feet. "I said lets get moving," he said. "We can put in a lot more distance before dark. This place doesn't do the imagination any good. Feels like I'm being watched."

Raising her eyes to the sky-reaching branches, she nodded her head slowly in agreement.

It did feel that way.

* * *

***

* * *

The Brick Route wasn't exactly obliging to the undercarriage of the old truck Cain and Raw had found, but she held up fine in the end. The horses had been left back at the stable in Byvasser, to be kept as a sort of collateral for the stable owner's old transport.

All hell had broken loose inside of Wyatt Cain, but he did his best to keep it in check. The only thing he had to hold onto was his clear cut focus on what needed doing, and he followed this path with a single minded diligence that had served him well his years protecting the streets and citizens of Central City with the Tin Men. Now, however, it had the Viewer beside him agitated, knees bouncing counter-wise to the jostling of the truck.

"You okay?" Cain finally asked Raw, his voice coming out harder than he meant it.

The Viewer gave him a knowing look, but said nothing.

The silence in the truck, but for the sound of brick and hard gravel beneath the worn old tires, was torture on Cain's active mind. There wasn't a single part of him, be it his spine or his heart or his brain, that wasn't shouting at him to turn around, you're going the wrong way, idiot, the battle's behind you.

But he continued on the path DG had set him on. He did as she'd asked, because she'd come out and asked him. Before this time on the road had thrown them back together, she hadn't asked him for much. Never really had the chance, with his duties with the army keeping him out of the city and her duties to her family keeping her in it.

But now, at every point, she had asked him to go farther and farther, deeper and deeper into unknown territory, places dark and unexplored. He was under Her Majesty's employ to keep the princess safe, but it was his softness for the girl that had him walking two paces behind her as she followed her feet straight into the fire.

And at the very brink, she'd put her hand up, turned those blue eyes on him, and asked him to _stay behind_.

Wyatt growled low to himself, disappointed and slightly embarrassed by the amount of sentiment his mind could conjure up under the circumstances.

He barely slowed through the Fields of the Papay, though it was customary to do so. The tunnel beneath the trees was just wide enough for the truck to drive through without obstruction, but the topmost branches reaching over the road scraped over the roof of the truck, adding to the hum of the road.

There were people everywhere throughout the fields; farmers who lived in the area, whose land bordered that of the Papay. It was harvest time, and as a sign of peace, the people had come to help the grangers gather their fruit. It marked changing times, though Cain doubted any of the higher-ups from Central City would take notice. If the fields were being harvested, that meant the celebrations would be taking place within the walls of the city. Hard to see what's going on out in the fields of the country through the bottom of an endless wine glass.

Darkness fell, and the stars came out. Soon after, the glow in the night sky grew faintly pinkish, long before the lights of the city itself could be seen. It was with a sigh of relief that Cain finally laid eyes on the spotlighted towers, gleaming brightly as beacons. The guards at the South gate stopped the truck, and he impatiently barked his clearance. The young guardsman winced and allowed Cain to get back into the truck.

The drive through the city took longer than if he'd been on foot. The streets were busy, the avenues leading to Gale Square had been blocked off, and the Sin District seemed to have burst at the seams. Closer to the heart of the city, traffic thinned out, but it was still well past seven by the time they reached the gates of the palace. One look at Cain and the Viewer had the guards waving the truck through.

He drove around to the back entrance. As he entered the palace, the staff he ran across called out greetings to both he and Raw. His absence had been noticed, apparently, though he didn't take the time to stop and make small talk with the half-dozen people who tried to slow him down. Biting back one rude comment after the other, he finally made it to the upper floors with Raw in tow.

Finding Azkadellia was a daunting task, and it was by pure chance that the two men stumbled across Glitch pacing in a hallway in front of a set of impressively carved wooden doors. It was Raw that pointed the agitated advisor out to Cain; the Tin Man would have strode right past, mind set on searching the residential floors. With an appreciative nod, Cain wondered if the Viewer hadn't led the way from the moment they'd entered the palace.

Cain was mere feet away before the distracted advisor noticed him; Glitch jumped back with a startled cry, hands going to his mouth. Cain put up a hand, sensing a rant of babbled indignation coming on, but his friend moved onto more relevant topics surprisingly quickly.

"What are you doing here?" Glitch demanded. "And without DG?" He took greater notice of Raw then, and the two reunited friends smiled at each other, before Glitch hissed, "And why is Raw with you instead?"

"Not now," Cain said firmly. "Where's Azkadellia." It wasn't a question or statement, it was a demand, and Glitch's eyes widened slightly at the quiet, solemn anger that was coursing through Cain's tone. Without hesitation, Glitch nodded his head to the left, and the heavy doors.

"She's in council," Glitch whispered. "They've had her in there for hours. There was a dispatch from the South earlier." He seemed to pale, if it were possible. "Cain, what –"

"Fill him in," Cain told Raw, the door handles already in his hands. With a shove, Wyatt charged headlong the council hall. Whatever heated conversation was taking place between the two opposite rows of bickering old men stopped the moment the doors were thrown open. At the far end of the long, decorated hall, Azkadellia sat, regal and beautiful, on her throne, presiding over the council and looking miserably bored. The speaker came to a stuttering halt.

Up the green-carpeted aisle between the council seats, Cain walked respectfully up to the top of the hall, his eyes locked on the Queen as she stood from her throne, ignoring the insulted chairmen on either side of him. He'd made it halfway through the gauntlet when the buzz of whispering started, and was within five paces of Azkadellia when the men had begun to shout. He made a short bow of his head as he reached the dais, removing the hat from his head. The gazes of contempt and scrutiny from the squawking council members had him remembering his manners at the very last minute.

"Captain," Azkadellia said pleasantly, but there was a tremble in her voice that reminded him instantly of DG. "To what do I owe this welcome interruption?"

"Your sister sent me to fetch you," he said, keeping his voice low, his teeth near clenched. He replaced the hat on his head, tugging at the brim and looking at her with shadowed eyes. "If you're willin' to break away from your duties here for a spell."

The word choice caught her attention, realization to the plight in his icy blue eyes hitting her hard. She lifted her chin and regarded the two dozen councilmen who stared with open dismay in their eyes. "Gentlemen, I believe that's quite enough for one evening," she said, voice ringing clear through the hall. "I will hear no more on these matters, you may go through my advisors if it absolutely must be dealt with. My attentions are required elsewhere at the moment. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Azkadellia stepped off the dais, and walked past Cain toward the open doors at the end of the hall. He glanced around, smirking as he watched the council members go slack-jawed at Azkadellia's address, before he followed the Queen out and shut the doors behind him.

"I trust there's a good story," Azkadellia muttered at Cain as he set the pace toward her rooms, a carefully protective hand on her elbow to keep her at his side.

Cain turned his head to regard her with a frown. "Always is."

* * *

***

* * *

At the exact moment Azkadellia stood from her throne in Central City, DG was staring up at the sky, away from the small circle of firelight. There were no clouds, and the millions of stars that scattered across the heavens all seemed to twinkle just for her, sending her a thousand messages that she couldn't make out, forever lost. She felt insignificant, and alone.

Tory and Zero sat by the fireside, and she assumed they thought her asleep. Their backs were to her, and they sat quite far apart. The day of travel had drained all of them, Zero had pushed them hard and had bordered on cruel. She hadn't expected any less, but after weeks of Wyatt's gentle consideration of her, this colder reality hit especially hard.

_Wyatt..._

Maybe it was just the dark... or the cold, or the vastness of the stars... she felt her chest constrict and her throat close up, and she turned her face into her arm to quell the sudden upswell. She wouldn't lower herself to crying. She was angry at herself for losing control... and her hope.

Really, it wasn't _so_ hopeless...

No, one look at the silhouetted backs of the ex-Longcoat and the kid who wove a beautiful story of legend and half truths – it was pretty damned hopeless.

She needed a walk... not fresh air, no she'd been surrounded by so much fresh air in the past two weeks that she actually missed the closed-in feeling of Central City.

_Central City... did he make it yet? Has he gotten to Azkadellia... are they on their way?_

DG shook her head at herself as she slowly got to her feet. Definitely needed a walk.

"Don't go wandering off," Zero barked sharply at her as she took her first step.

Cringing, DG said nothing, though she muttered a curse and a threat under her breath. The forest around her was still somewhat sparsely populated, wide open spaces between trees that she could walk through aimlessly without fear of bumping her shoulder against a trunk or tripping over root structure bursting out of the ground. She put a gloved hand on every tree she passed, reaching out with each step to steady herself in case she stumbled. It was slow, but it was calming, and she could almost forget the consuming blackness around her, or the uncertainty of her future.

A stick cracked under her foot... and a rustle sounded above her head.

DG paused, bracing herself with one arm out. She listened hard, but heard nothing but for the wind playing with the leaves. She took off her gloves and touched the rough bark of the nearest tree, the scarred texture reminding her too vividly of other trees across the O.Z., the towering behemoths of scorched Finaqua, the orchards of the Papay... and _others._

Another whisper from above her head, the faintest stir of branch, too heavy to be caused by the caress of the breeze.

DG swallowed hard as her breath caught in her throat. She wasn't afraid, exactly...

"_Two little princesses, dancing in a row,_" she sang quietly to herself as she began to walk again. She hummed the next line, and the next, finishing the song and repeating it to herself a second time, a comfort that she couldn't quite explain. Though she kept her ears keened toward the branches above her head, she heard nothing.

She held out her hand and focused on the dip of her palm; from her skin was born the tiniest wisp, a bright pinprick of light that mirrored the stars. It zigzagged in front of her, lost without direction, waiting for a command. DG looked up, toward the darkness in the branches over her head, to the sky and stars beyond that. The wisp streaked upward, leaving a trail of light in its wake that faded into nothing.

The wisp stopped, and circled its target, spinning faster and faster, all intimidation and harassment for its harmless intent. There was a startled, annoyed cry, a flutter accompanied by a wooden creak. Gracefully, the dark shape plummeted from the branches to land on the ground in front of her. Her hands went up defensively, a faint shimmer igniting her skin and illuminating the face of the soldier who'd dropped from the sky. The wisp extinguished just as the last of its light cast upon his face.

With a sudden gasp, her arms went around his neck before she could stop herself. Corporal Hass had the breath knocked out of him, but he laughed quietly as he returned the hug, his hands patting her back reassuringly, albeit a bit uncomfortably.

"I can't believe how glad I am to see you," she said with a breathless laugh as she pulled away.

"Neither can I," Hass muttered as he rubbed his chest where the impact of her embrace had hit him hardest.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded with a hiss, though even as the question was passing her lips, she realized she knew the answer.

"Captain's orders," he said with a wry, downward curve to his mouth. "Wasn't supposed to let you know I was following you."

"Just tell him I bullied it out of you," she said.

Hass snorted. "You did."

A moment passed as the two watched each other carefully. The night didn't allow her to see his face very well, but the rigid set of his shoulders spoke volumes. "You shouldn't be here," she said slowly, softly, feeling the tension radiating off of him as easily as she could hear his quiet breathing, loud in the stillness around them.

"Yes, I should be," Hass insisted, as if it was the end of it. "Captain seemed to think you could use the extra eye out for you, seeing as how you weren't keen on it being his."

DG swallowed hard, a heavy guilt crawling into her stomach and settling down for a good, long stay. "Was he angry?"

"Angry doesn't even come close. Now, scoot back to camp before Zero comes looking for you."

She stood with her feet planted, rooted as deeply as the ancient trees that surrounded her.

When he saw she wasn't moving, he let loose a sigh, and reached out to place a hand on her upper arm. His fingers squeezed her gently, and she was certain that he was weighing his words carefully.

"Get some sleep," Hass told her, a bit of concern coming through the otherwise dispassionate front. "The shield isn't too far, we'll reach it before midday tomorrow. And try not to sneak off again," he said, and she imagined him grinning teasingly at her. "I have to get some sleep, too. Can't keep an eye on you all the time."

* * *

_(Author's Note II: Point of interest, tomorrow (Nov. 2nd) is the one year anniversary of my watching "Tin Man" and finding this fandom. Thanks to everyone for the great year its been! Here's to many more C/DG stories, yes/hell yes?)_


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

_Author's Note: Probably the longest transition chapter in the history of Tin Man fic. Sorry for the lag. Too. Much. Plot._

* * *

**Chapter Thirty Seven**

Jeb couldn't honestly say he'd ever found himself in more trouble.

Sure, he'd survived escaping Central City during the Last Stand, but that was mostly due to his mother's fierce determination and his father's quick action. The annuals with the Resistance; his incarceration in the iron suit; the siege on the tower during the Eclipse; following DG in a (debatably) failed attempt to rescue his father and her sister _and_ the Emerald from the Outlanders... the list went on and on. As he thought back on it, he came to the unfriendly realization that there seemed to be a scrape for every day of his life.

Great Gale, but he'd been in some stupid places. The Forest, however, the bleakness, the darkness, the enemy camp amidst the ruins of the Ancients... no, he couldn't honestly say he'd ever found himself in more trouble.

Things were happening.

He wasn't with Catticalisa when she'd discovered the fate of Graham Hardy, the missing informant. No, he'd been in his tent, mercifully asleep.

A shrill scream had cut through the camp, awakening all those slumbering and jarring all those not.

Jeb hadn't gone to her side, had all but hidden under his covers, knowing that whatever had caused the witch to make that sound wouldn't be in his favour. But the truth had spread like wildfire through the camp, whispered and chuckled over amongst the men.

Hardy had turned himself over to the royal army, gone to hide behind Azkadellia's skirts. Locked away in a heavily guarded Tower cell.

Jeb hadn't really known how to react, kept to himself after discovering the news, until Lady Catt called for him again. No, Jeb didn't blame Hardy at all. He couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be than behind Az's skirt...

Groaning, he had slammed the heel of his hand into his own forehead, _hard_.

But once in his head, it was hard to shoo thoughts of Azkadellia away. She persisted to haunt him, teasing him with delicate, fleeting memories. By way of subtle torment, he was forced to stand behind Catticalisa as she viewed Azkadellia over the course of that afternoon. Her voice was infrequent, but from his close proximity to the Lady's shoulder, he caught glimpses of her now and again.

"_There is a council meeting late this afternoon. The council members –"_

"_I don't want to speak on the council at the moment, Ambrose."_

"Oh, this Queen is all woe and misery!" Catt exclaimed, pushing the book away but leaving it open. "Tell me Cain, are all the Gale women shrinking violets?"

Jeb cleared his throat, his eyes staying pointedly away from the book, though from its angle he couldn't see a single part of the magic picture. "No, my lady," he said.

"Oh, I don't think this Queen could be the ball of fire that her sister is, could she? This dapper headcase advisor of hers, such a blessedly peaceful match," she said slyly, her red lips curling into an unpleasant smile. "It seems almost a family tradition, marrying below their stations. Even Dorothy Gale herself married a City Guardsman!" Catt laughed cruelly.

Jeb only grit his teeth. The words piled up behind them, dancing on the tip of his tongue as he bit down on it hard enough to draw blood.

The lady smirked. "I grow tired of watching these two moon over each other," she said, and reached out to flip the cover of the book shut. "Don't you, Cain?"

"Hadn't really thought of it that way, my lady," he said stiffly.

She smiled at him then, her face softening, the glow in her eyes causing a twinge of suspicion to stir up in his gut.

"When is General Cole due to return from the village?" she asked him sharply, almost as if she were testing him. Jumpiest woman he'd ever met, and he'd spent more than a little time with DG.

Jeb cleared his throat. "No more than a few hours, ma'am. That is, unless he goes and meets trouble."

_Like the escort?_

The bodies of the soldiers killed in the attack had been returned to the shield, and Travers hadn't been among them, which meant – as far as Jeb was concerned – that he'd smuggled away clean. That Hardy had something to do with it was a certainty. If his partner had made it to the generals or not was only a hope.

Jeb would find out soon enough though. It was a miracle Travers hadn't been discovered missing yet. When he was, it would be as easy as leafing through a book to find him again, and Jeb didn't fancy being at Catticalisa's side for that moment.

_This would be a good time to start planning your strategic, ingenious, and might I add poorly-timed exit,_ his common sense gloated, and he was hard pressed not to listen to it. It seemed that his one and only opportunity had passed him by.

No, he'd learned over the annuals there was no such thing as only one chance.

The expression _'Or die trying...'_ didn't come from nowhere.

_Sit tight, and keep a close eye out,_ his father's voice whispered in his mind. He didn't question this fact, no; he'd been hearing Wyatt Cain in his head for a long, long time. His conscience was his father, his common sense his mother.

It was close to midnight when Cole's company arrived. With his three scouts standing at attention behind him, Cole reported all that he'd found in the village.

"Hardy's family had little in the way of information," Cole told Lady Catt, his voice strained. "Short of pursuing him ourselves, which was in direct violation of your orders –"

Catt shook her head impatiently at her general. "Graham Hardy will be dealt with soon enough. Once all that is Azkadellia's is mine, and I'm sitting on the throne, everything will fall into place, won't it?" she said with a laugh like a greedy child. "What about our munitions shipment, General? Where is it?"

"We located the shipment on Hardy's property," he said promptly, "locked up tight in a storage silo."

"Waiting for us to fetch it?" she asked. Even from his position standing behind her, Jeb could see perfectly in his mind's eye, the image of the Lady Catt raising a sharply sculpted eyebrow in query.

"I wouldn't advise such a move be made at this time, my lady, but yes, it is merely a matter of retrieving it."

"And if the royal army is laying in wait?" she challenged, razor edged.

Cole said nothing.

The Lady Catt heaved a deep sigh, and her shoulders sagged. As she let her head hang, her long red hair curtained around her face. Long seconds ticked away before she raised her chin again, and when she did, Cole flinched under the intensity of her eyes. Jeb bit back a smirk, but it was difficult.

"I want our perimeter fortified," she muttered, so low that Jeb had a hard time catching what she said. Cole seemed to hear her, understand her, because he gave her a short nod as she continued to speak. "I want the guard doubled on all access tunnels. Shadow's Passage is to be the only way in or out, do I make myself clear?"

Cole nodded again. "Yes, my lady." He left the tent immediately, taking his scouts with him.

"_Azkadellia,"_ Catt seethed quietly between her teeth as the tent flap fell shut. "Gods' sakes, what is that witch plotting?"

* * *

***

* * *

The trees in the Black Forest were _black. _The trunks left an ashy residue on DG's gloves as she touched her hand to each in passing. She didn't know why she was compelled to run her fingers over each thick trunk, scarred bark ridged and ancient beneath each pass of her hand, she just did it. She'd long since lost count of the trees she'd graced with a faint trace of her fingers.

"You want to walk a little faster, Princess?" Zero asked, irritated.

She paused, letting her feet come to a complete halt. Tory had caught up to her in a matter of seconds, and he stopped beside her, giving her an inquisitive glance. "Why did we stop?"

"Princess needs a rest," Zero spat.

DG craned her neck to look down the lane they travelled. Even to her untrained eye, she could tell that the road had been cleared recently. Underbrush that had been torn out of the ground was now piled unceremoniously along the side of the roadbed. Every which way she turned, there were trees stretching out into the distance, their high branches and broad leaves blocking out the light of the twin suns. When she looked upward, she had to shield her eyes from the brilliant white light that couldn't make it to the forest floor.

Grumbling to herself, she leaned up against a tree that grew closer to the road than any of the others. An afterthought skipped through her head, that her back would be covered in black soot, but she dismissed it. With a sigh, she stared down at the road without really seeing it, scuffing her toe in the dirt.

Her foot hit the rough, jagged edge of a stone embedded in the road. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she put a little more pressure into the next swipe of her foot, and the stone came up a bit, loosening the soil around it. Her eyes widened when she thought she caught a glimpse of yellow. Giving the stone another prod with her foot, she unearthed it completely, rolling it onto its opposite side. A little orange centipede scrambled out from underneath what wasn't a stone at all... it was a broken chunk of yellow brick.

"Huh," she said quietly to herself, bending down to retrieve the piece of brick. It was an odd shape; part of its single smooth side was stamped with a '3' and part of what looked to be a '9'. Over and over she turned the brick in her hands, studying the ridges of its surface, as if it could tell her a story of times past, like layers of strata on a canyon wall. The brick kept its peace, and told her nothing.

"Is that what I think it is?" Tory asked her, though his words seemed distant and barely registered with her single-minded focus on the broken brick in her hands.

DG turned the piece over again, traced the '3' with her finger, dislodging tiny particles of dirt from the indentation.

"We gonna stand here gawking over debris we find in the road all day, or did we have somewhere to be?" Zero asked coldly as he stalked toward DG.

Distractedly, DG shoved the brick fragment into the ex-Longcoat's chest as she set off at a quick pace. Zero gave a quiet _'Umph'_ of surprise, but by the time he'd realized what the princess was doing, she had already broken into a run and was off down the road, heading deeper into the woods, alone. Her eyes searched the path at her feet as she ran.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. He cast a dark, knowing look at the kid before he was hot on DG's heels. Tory picked up the piece of brick DG had dropped, pocketing it before following after Zero.

DG kept her eyes peeled, watching the ground more than she watched where she was going. Tiny flecks of yellow caught her eye now, standing out from the road as bright as gold to the girl who sought it out. Clumsily, she stumbled, but a hand on her arm stopped her from falling, the wrong hand. Not the protective, gentle but firm grip she'd become too used to feeling by her side, no, not Wyatt Cain's sure, thick fingered grip, but the vice-hold of Zero, flexing and squeezing, threatening pain.

She tried to wrench away, but he continued to hold her so she couldn't run again. "Thanks," she muttered, "but let me go." It was a quiet command.

"Not a chance, girl," he said; she was more out of breath than he, her own breathing erratic while his barely held a hitch.

"Let. Me. G–"

"And I said not a chance," he said with a derisive chuckle. "This isn't playtime, Princess."

Tory caught up to them, a look of uncertainty on his face as his eyes fell upon Zero's death-grip on DG's arm. "Hands off her, Zero," he said automatically, his normally easy and good-natured voice dropping a dangerous octave.

"Not until the little Other Sider understands," Zero said, giving her arm the slightest twist, the tiniest pinch. "I'm not laying down my life so she can run amok like a harvest-drunk Papay."

DG bit down on her lip. "I'm not running amok, I'm going the right way."

Zero grunted disbelievingly, finally letting go of her arm; he stooped, picking up a stray piece of brick, bigger than the one she'd found, but still as crumbled and ancient. "I haven't heard it told anywhere to follow the yellow brick road, Princess."

She glared challengingly at him, but said nothing. The voice of her Popsicle rang out through her mind, countering Zero.

"_All of life's answers are found along the Old Road."_

Zero leered over her as he tossed the chunk of brick back down; it hit the road with a dull sound and rolled off into the grass. "We follow the trail Catt's soldiers left," he said firmly, "not a trail of yellow brick breadcrumbs. You got that?"

Frowning, she didn't respond. With a growl that rumbled through him, Zero took up her arm again, roughly yanking her the few inches toward him. Leaning down, he did all but press his forehead to hers as he stared into her, eyes sharp. Tory let out a hoarse, guttural shout, but didn't lunge forward, didn't step in. DG was glad, wasn't about to let the kid think he could save her when she didn't need saving.

She _didn't_ need saving.

"Its this way," she told Zero, focusing her light and giving him just enough of a push to back off, just enough of a spark to sting. His hand snapped away from her, shaking off the shock her magic had given him.

Zero shook his head at her, was about to open his mouth and most likely throw a cutting remark at her when the sound of something moving through the woods tore their attention away from each other, and_ damn _herself to hell, but she stepped back toward Zero and away from the trees.

"Not scared, are you?" he teased mercilessly, though his eyes were on the dense brush, moving back and forth restlessly as he sought out what skulked where they couldn't see. His every movement was calculated and calm, but he drew his gun from its holster at his side just the same. It caught her eye, and she noticed there wasn't a tremble to his fingers. "You two wanna get moving?" he suggested though clenched teeth, eyes and firearm still focused on the thick, impenetrable woods.

With a sideways glance at Tory, DG did as she was told. There was a nervousness fluttering in her stomach like a trapped moth, more an annoyance than a threat but still a constant, palpable presence. To walk forward was easy, to follow the road as it laid itself before her was the hard part.

Zero was close behind her, catching up to her, suddenly wrapping that ever present hand around her arm and dragging her to keep up with him.

"What do you think it is?" Tory asked.

Zero cast a glance behind him. "Don't know. Could be a kalidah."

Tory gave a tense chuckle. "Kalidahs aren't real... are they?"

"Never know in this forest," Zero muttered darkly, looking down to find DG's wide blue eyes focused on him. She didn't know why her eyes were drawn to him, why something deep inside insisted on staring at him, drinking in the lines of greyish stubble along his jaw, the sweep of his blonde hair away from his temples.

"What's a kalidah?" she asked. Finally tearing her eyes away from the ex-Longcoat, she searched the trees behind them, the black trunks lining the road, the thick tangle of their roots and branches and the dry mess of tall grasses that grew beneath them despite the lack of sunslight.

"One of those big scary monsters that likes to gobble up little girls," came Zero's short response.

Something in the trees moved again, rustling the grass and grabbing at her attention, sending her imagination skittering and her nerves to take a dive and hide somewhere in her toes. The moth trapped inside her had begun to do madcap pirouettes somewhere in the vicinity of her lungs.

The jutted dirt lane, littered with broken bricks came to a sudden halt as it intersected with a stretch of paved brick road. Their forward momentum ceased all together at the very edge, and for a moment DG could almost forget the quiet stirring in the underbrush that followed them. She stared in open mouthed awe at what seemed to be the Oldest of Old Roads. The gnarled black roots of the wooden giants towering about them had slowly overtaken the road, upturning and displacing the stones until the bricks were so utterly uneven, she couldn't imagine anyone navigating it pleasantly. Among the roots, thin red vines reached long-leaved fingers across the bricks, and perhaps it was the light tricking her into thinking the vines _twitched_ the closer her feet got, as if they might suddenly spring to life and wrap themselves about her legs.

Behind them, the grasses were disturbed visibly, and a low snarl sounded from where she couldn't see. The air grew silent as the three reluctant companions all drew a collective breath. DG caught the barest glimpse of the massive creature as it pounced out of the woods onto the road. There was a scream and a shout and a curse, all from three different mouths, before DG tripped and fell back onto the bricks, scraping her hands despite her gloves. She scrambled backwards over a thick root obstructing the path, her eyes focusing on the massive cat that had landed gracefully on the brick road and now separated her from Zero and Tory.

The enormous mountain lion paced in a slow circle, its black-tipped tail snapping back and forth behind it as it regarded its prey. Its wise, golden eyes landed squarely on her and seemed to stare straight into her soul. Everything in the world seemed to stop in that moment as the lion walked languidly before her, its long, sinuous body mesmerizing her with its beauty. Her entire body seemed to have frozen in place, though her brain twirled through a thousand thoughts per second.

"Don't move," Zero ordered. The resonating click of the hammer being pulled back on his gun shot through her, louder than she thought possible.

"_Don't!"_ she cried out as the lion turned sharply on Zero and the boy. The great cat crouched before them, growling ferociously, working up into a deafening roar, shaking her to her very core. DG gasped, covering her ears; did the earth just tremble beneath her at the lion's anger?

_Its finally happened, _she thought to herself with a smirk as she pushed herself to her feet, her hands out defensively in front of her. _I've gone bona fide insane. Well, it took long enough. _

She focused on her light, though she held it in check, as the lion turned once again in a smooth circle, its paint-dipped tail flicking behind it. God, did lions get that big on the Other Side? Surely, the tawny paws were twice the size of her own hand.

So, so nervously, DG lowered herself into a curtsey before the great lion. "Your Majesty," she said reverentially, keeping her own blues trained always on the golden eyes of the cat.

"Are you crazy?" Tory hissed.

"I was just wondering that myself," DG said in a choked voice as she righted herself, and waited; she didn't blink, didn't break eye-contact. Like staring down a damn hippogriff, she stood perfectly still, and _waited._

Her patience was rewarded... or so she thought. The lion relaxed its tense shoulders, its corded muscles rippling beneath its fur. It stalked toward her on silent, padded paws; sidling up to her, it nudged her hip forcefully with its head, pushing her a few steps backward, farther into the black of the forest.

Ever so slowly, DG lowered herself to her knees so that she might stare the lion straight in the eye. She'd never done anything so stupid in her entire life, and in the back of her mind she could hear Wyatt Cain growling as much. "You're here to guide me, too, aren't you?" she asked the catamount quite seriously.

The lion blinked once, its only acknowledgement of her. It turned away from her, lithe form agilely passing over the tree roots growing over the road, a grace that DG wholly envied. The cat stopped before Zero, who still held his gun raised and cocked. It watched him passively for a moment before giving him the same not-so-gentle push it had given DG. Zero stumbled a bit as Tory hopped around the lion and made straight for DG.

"What's it doing?" he asked her, a slight tremble to him.

The lion plunked its huge body down in the center of the dirt road that bisected with the forgotten span of Brick Route. Stretching out, it gave a tremendous yawn. The beast watched the three travellers with lazy yellow eyes as it quite effectively blocked the way they'd come.

"No turning back then," Zero said direly, jerking his chin toward the lion as he replaced the hammer. Holstering the gun, he gave DG a rough shove in the shoulder.

The lion growled deeply, and again the very bricks under her feet seemed to shift minutely.

Deeper into the forest they walked, leaving the great catamount behind. The trees were denser in this part of the woods, if that was even possible, growing so closely together, DG wasn't sure if she could have slipped between them, even if the grasses and brush didn't choke the way.

"I don't like this forest," she muttered to herself, glancing upward, searching for the friendly sign of a winged shadow moving above her. Hass had done just as he'd said, didn't let himself be seen. No, DG didn't want anyone seeing him, but she wished she could see him for herself, just for a minute, just for the comfort.

"Dark and creepy," Tory agreed.

An hour of walking passed, and then a second. Soon, something in the dimness ahead of them began to shimmer faintly, an illumination that grew brighter the closer they got. Though the suns were directly overhead, their rays did little to penetrate the thick canopy. Though the iridescence they rapidly approached was weak and filtered, it called as a beacon in the shadowed quietude of the forest.

Once again, they found their path had come to an abrupt end. The brick-paved path continued straight through the shield, and they were left standing at the edge – well, at a very safe distance to the edge. The shield gave off an energy that DG could feel sending every molecule of her body into a frenzy. The hairs stood up on her arms, as warmly clothed as she was.

"This is – this is incredible," she said, her head falling back as she took in the sheer scale of the magical construct. Who could have this kind of power, to generate such a magnificent force? "Does Catt maintain this with her magic?" she wondered aloud, taking a careful step toward the glittering wall of the shield.

"No," Zero said. He was kneeling on the bricks, looking both left and right, where faint trails cut off in either direction to walk the perimeter of the shield. "Machine runs this thing." Groaning, he straightened. "Men headed North from here." He motioned to the path that broke right.

"We aren't going to make it to the gate without them noticing us," Tory piped in, chin raised skyward as his eyes searched for the very top of the shield, unseen through the branches above their heads.

"I'm a little suspicious they haven't already," Zero said offhandedly. "Game faces, then. Where is the Emerald, girl?"

DG's eyebrows knit together as she patted the pocket of her slacks. The stone gave a warm pulse.

"I expect you know how you're keeping that damned thing safe once you're in there," Zero muttered, and held out a reaching hand to Tory. The kid shrugged his rucksack off his back, and buried his head in it. After a few painfully long seconds he pulled out the length of rope he'd acquired searching the abandoned homestead of the tin woodman.

With a few precise, jerking movements, Zero looped the rope around DG's waist twice, then cinched it tight. The princess squeaked.

"What are you doing?" she asked, though it was obvious. She resisted the urge to shudder when his bare hands caressed her exposed wrists as he tied her hands behind her back.

_I don't remember signing on for this, _a scared little voice in the back of her mind whispered. She glanced over at Tory, expecting to see the same astonishment she felt sketched upon his young face, but instead she only found a compassionate acceptance in his eyes as he viewed the ex-Longcoat binding her.

Once the ropes were secured fast and firm, Zero dug his hand into the hair at the back of her neck, knocking her hat to the ground. He tangled his fingers at the nape of her neck, gaining control of her head. With his other hand, he took hold of the ropes around her waist.

"I hope you're ready, Love." With his two handfuls of her, he pushed her ahead of him. She struggled against him, and it wasn't for show. Tears threatened, and the only thing that kept them at bay was her fierce determination not to let Zero have that to hold over her as well. Cowed and bound as she was, she wouldn't let him have that so very personal satisfaction.

The path that circled the shield was as wide as all the roads they'd travelled that day. Even if he held an unforgiving grip on her, Zero wasn't cruel, though he never extracted his hand from her hair. As close to the shield as she was, she could feel the static charge of it, and after twenty minutes had gone by, she began to feel a bit dizzy and weak. The Emerald was now radiating such a heat against her leg that she wondered if she might be burned by it.

Soon, a broken stone wall on the inside of the shield towered up beside them. The architecture was old, a period unknown to DG though she'd spent a good deal of the past year – annual – soaking in everything she'd been able to learn about the Zone. The soldiers standing guard on the single-level battlements called out a warning to them, derisive shouts as they recognized Zero and his prize. There were catcalls and whistles, guffawing laughter.

Ahead of them, the groaning of the portcullis drew her attention, though she really couldn't look anywhere but where Zero trained her head. A company of five armed men came out, weapons charged and raised. DG's heart gave a leap and she closed her eyes. If she could just stop herself from shaking or showing fear...

"That's a real pretty package you got. Now, state your business, Zero," the officer in charge barked.

With one smooth motion, Zero forced DG to her knees. She whimpered as he finally released her hair. Though she desperately wanted to, she didn't give into gravity and let her head hang. She glared long and hard at the soldiers pointing their rifles at her, the blue of her eyes turned icy and sharp.

"I got something Her Ladyship will be mighty interested in," Zero said, running his hand over DG's hair as she knelt in front of him. She jerked her head away and nearly lost her balance in the process. The soldiers before her chuckled. "Take us to the witch now, let her be the one to ask the questions."

* * *

***

* * *

As DG was being roughly escorted through the gatehouse at Shadow's Passage, Wyatt Cain was a day's journey West, helping Azkadellia down from the truck. He could have sworn he felt a cold draft as the Queen walked past him without so much as a sideways glance. He couldn't say he blamed her; once he'd informed Az of just where DG was and who she was with, the silent treatment had quickly settled in.

The last hour of the drive had been spent wheeling along at a snail's pace over the deeply rutted, overgrown dirt road. Completely hidden by large stands of trees, the royal army's camp was a small one, out of the way and off the Brick Route. There was a sense of urgent activity about the place, but what Cain saw was nothing compared to pressing need that had been building deep in his chest since he'd watched DG disappear into the trees with Zero, a man he'd once sworn to make suffer for his crimes.

The Northern general was there to greet the Queen, his weathered face devoid of expression. Without a word, he bowed to his monarch, then motioned for her to follow him. The group of four – Azkadellia, Raw, Glitch, and Cain himself – were led to a series of connected tents at the center of the camp. The flaps were held open for them by guards flanking the entrance. Once all had passed through, the flaps fell shut once again, cutting out the afternoon light and leaving them in semi-darkness.

"Your Majesty," Peter Andrus said with another bow of his head. "If I might request – that is to say, a degree of protective enchantment would not go amiss."

Azkadellia raised her hand, and a wave of light energy swept around them. Standing close behind the Queen, Cain felt the strong pull of the magic, reminding him so closely of DG, and yet there was a different feel to it, a quality brought by Azkadellia herself, though what more there was to it, Cain couldn't quite tell. Magic was just plain out of his league.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Andrus said, relieved. "Now –"

"What is the meaning of summoning me here, General?" Azkadellia demanded. "Your dispatch was despairingly vague."

"There have been some unsettling developments," Andrus said, unaffected by the coldness of Azkadellia. Anyone who worked closely with the woman was almost impervious to it. "With my apologies, the other three leaders are unable to meet with us. They've gone to bring in more of their own men."

"You have yet to explain why you feel the need to fetch reinforcements," Azkadellia pointed out.

Cain stepped away from Azkadellia, walking a purposeful circle around the tent. He kept both hands firmly on his belt, his head down, as his eyes had taken in every corner of the tent upon entering. The dirt floor itself was marked over with a thousand footprints, all melting into the next. Pacing had been done recently, and quite a lot of it. He cast his eyes upward to Andrus as the general responded to the Queen.

"One of our scouts has returned from the Black Forest with disturbing reports," Andrus explained in short order. "It –"

"_One_ scout?" Azkadellia asked, incredulity shaking her voice. "Where is the second?"

Andrus cleared his throat, a wholly regretful gesture. "Lieutenant Cain chose to remain in enemy territory against orders to return."

Cain felt something heavy settle into his gut, akin to guilt, fear, hope, all rolled into one hard, painful ball. So Jeb had indeed gone undercover into the Black Forest, and was now in as much danger as DG. _Damn that bullheaded – _Cain tore that thought out from its very root.

Andrus was continuing his brief. "... The one leading the Longcoats, a woman by the name of Catticalisa."

"Yes, I'm aware," the Queen said.

Andrus shook his head. "She is in possession of a... well, the reports are a little unbelievable, but –"

"A book," Azkadellia interrupted. "Magic. 'The Record'."

Andrus coughed lightly, a little taken aback at the Queen's well-informed understanding of the situation. "If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty, but this information was brought in by my scout only –"

"Captain Cain briefed me on the situation, General."

Astounded, Andrus turned to Cain. "And how might you have come by this intelligence, Captain?"

Cain smirked, staring down Andrus. "Crystal ball," he said, deadpan.

"A crystal ball?" Andrus repeated, a vague smile finding its way onto his lips. "Wait," he said, realization dawning. "Do you mean to tell me that –"

"DG went to see the Reader, yes," Cain interjected. "Almost a fortnight ago."

"And where is the Princess Royal?" the general demanded, his query directed at the Tin Man who stared at him with unfaltering intensity.

Cain cleared his throat, and let his eyes go to Azkadellia. She watched him carefully, her posture stiff and regal. She was every bit the fiery, determined woman her sister was. "DG's got a mission of her own needs dealin' with," he said. Azkadellia gave him the faintest nod, her eyes softening, so he continued unabated, returning his harsh gaze to the general before him.

"She hopes to rid the Zone of the burden of the Emerald," Azkadellia clarified.

Andrus narrowed his gaze. "And how does she _hope_ to accomplish this?"

"By travellin' to Deadwood Fall," Cain said through clenched teeth. Speaking on this was more than a little disconcerting. He thought he might start feeling actual pain at repeating all this to Andrus. "Seems there's somethin' there that can help her get it done."

There was a beat of silence, and then another, and then Andrus was lifting his hand and pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Deadwood Fall, at the center of the Black Forest," he said slowly. "Are you aware, Captain, that there is an entire army of fugitive Longcoats surrounding that area? Not to mention the enchantress that leads them, or the shield that protects the lot?"

Cain's jaw tightened. "Yes, sir," was all that he could manage.

"You sent that little girl in there_ alone_?"

"Not alone," Cain said with a firm shake of his head. "Corporal Jeremy Hass travels with her."

The lie hung in the air between the general and the Tin Man, and Cain worried for a moment that Andrus would see right through the delicate front. It had been almost impossible to get Azkadellia to agree that keeping the presence of Zero and Tory at DG's side was imperative. Even now, he refused to look at Azkadellia for fear of giving it all away.

"One soldier?" Andrus almost laughed.

Until that moment, both Glitch and Raw had remained blissfully quiet, but Glitch stepped forward then. "It would seem that the time to argue over tactics has already passed, gentlemen," he said easily. Cain threw him what he hoped would come across as a grateful look. "What's done is done. If I've judged the distances properly – and I'm quite certain I have – DG will be too deep in by now to get out herself. If we're going to help her, it needs to be done immediately."

Andrus considered the advisor for a series of seconds before he gave a resigned sigh. He walked to a table in the middle of the tent, and unfurled an old map.

"Then what is it you suggest?" he asked, motioning to the map.

Ambrose raised his eyebrows conspiratorially as he shot Cain a knowing smile. "I thought we might dance."

Hours later, however, no steps had been taken, deliberation and caution winning over the Queen's passive nature. Azkadellia seemed to be flat out refusing to acknowledge the annuals of militaristic expertise she'd gained during her possession. She'd staged a takeover of an entire country at the age of only sixteen annuals, hadn't she? And here, she hemmed and hawed over the borders and the significant risk of losing men while her sister could very well be –

Cain stepped away from the table and out of the tent so quietly, he was sure no one had noticed him go. A headache was raging behind his eyes, the lines drawn on the map and the tiny carved quartz figures meant to symbolize the resources of both armies coming in flashes he couldn't chase away.

The last time Cain had found himself in a position where so many things could go wrong, he'd been standing on a hillside with DG waiting to storm the Tower, staring into those baby blues of hers and wondering faintly if he'd get the chance to do so again, half-expecting to die during the siege.

Now, he stood on the brink of another great battle, and honest to the Gods, could do with a bit of encouragement. Walking toward the closest stand of trees, he leaned back against the first sturdy trunk he saw. With his hat angled low over his eyes, he took a moment to regain his bearing. A cold wind was shuffling the leaves above his head, and he turned up the collar of his duster.

This sitting, this waiting... his feet wanted to _move, _his hands to _act._

Someone was approaching. Though he didn't look up, he knew by the careful, slow steps that it was Raw. Surely enough, the Viewer came to stand near him, leaning against his own tree. He said nothing, his quiet presence a comfort and an aggravation all at once. Seconds ticked into long minutes before Cain finally opened his mouth.

"No words of wisdom?" he asked with a grim smirk.

Raw considered this, and after a moment said, "Never make camp under Mobat nest."

Cain chuckled, an oddly placed relief seeping through his chest. "Yeah," he said. Raw was smiling at him.

"DG only want to keep Cain from dying. Witch kill Cain to hurt DG."

"That so, now?" He was disbelieving, though it was cold truth.

"DG not scared to go alone."

Cain growled low in his throat with a shake of his head. He shoved himself away from the tree, straightening his hat. "Well the damn fool girl should be. She keeps putting her life up for others, its gonna catch up to her."

"DG think same thing about Cain," Raw said sadly.

The words stopped Cain in his tracks, hands hanging at his sides loosely. His head fell, chin almost touching his chest. "She sent us to get help from her sister. I don't reckon this was the kind of help she was expectin'." When he looked up, Raw was shaking his head.

The wind gave a great howl, and the trees around them groaned in protest as they were tossed about. Cain looked up, watching the torrent of autumn colours.

"Captain Cain!" Azkadellia cried out over the wind. When Cain's eyes settled on her, he saw she'd gone pale and her eyes were blazing. She reached him, holding out her hands. He took them without hesitation; her skin was cold. Behind her, Ambrose was running to catch up, shrugging his arms into his frock-coat as he went. "Are you confident you can get my sister out of there?"

"Never crossed my mind that I wouldn't be able to."

Something in Azkadellia lit up. "Have you a plan?"

"Mighta had one stewing."

Azkadellia nodded, conviction shining through her now. "The generals and I will keep the witch's attention – and her book's – on us. Hopefully our diversion will be sufficient enough for you to infiltrate the camp and retrieve my sister and your son."

Cain studied Az carefully for a moment. She looked up at him,eyes burning with a courage reminding him so much of DG that he had to look away.

"This is against what your sister wanted," he told her.

Azkadellia smirked. "DG has to be wrong sometimes. Just go get them, bring them both home." A ripple of emotion coursed through her face, and for a moment, the strong, unfailing Queen looked close to tears. She gave Cain's hands a last squeeze before dropping them, and suddenly the air around them seemed cold again, the world cruel and moving fast. He watched Azkadellia return to the tent, to the general and the battle plans that still needed to be drawn.

But for Cain, Raw, and Ambrose, it was time to go fetch their princess.

* * *

_Author's Note II: *holds out hat*_


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

_Author's Note: My apologies on the lateness of this update. Life interferes. On with the show?_

_

* * *

  
_

**Chapter Thirty Eight**

_Speak softly, and carry a big stick; you will go far._

DG wrinkled her nose at her own thoughts. What use the sage advice was supposed to be, she wasn't sure she knew. Even if she had free use of her hands, and even if there weren't four guns trained on her as she walked, she wouldn't have fancied heading into the trees for a stick. The black sentinels that grew alongside the road were intimidating, branches creaking and swaying despite the absence of the slightest breeze. The forest had long since begun to creep her out, and it was wreaking havoc on her imagination. Her current position as prisoner didn't help matters any.

Keeping her mouth shut, her ears open, and her magic on its precipitous edge, DG paid attention to everything that happened around her. Zero walked behind her, one hand gripping hard the rope that looped her wrists together. Every once in a while he'd give her a forceful nudge, but at the same time guided her over the easiest parts of the path and didn't rush her over the uneven terrain. She'd hadn't tripped once. Tory was close behind Zero, marched along at gunpoint just as she was.

The escort that led them farther into the heart of the Black Forest consisted of four of Catt's soldiers. They were young, but hard and mean. They all seemed to wear the same grimace on their faces, a pained look of boredom crossed with abject loathing for whatever their eyes happened to fall upon. And at that moment, what their eyes saw was DG.

She couldn't care less. All she could think about was the Emerald, pulsing its magic against her leg. The air around her was charged, like the calmness before a storm, that promise on the wind of a real big show of nature.

Zero guided her roughly around a root jutting up out of the path. Jerking against the rope, she mumbled a wordless exclamation of protest. The ropes around her wrists tightened painfully as he twisted them in his hand. It wasn't an effort to hate him, but she'd decided to make a bit of a show of it in front of the lady's soldiers.

The Emerald gave a hot throb in her pocket, and she winced. It was like carrying a live coal.

DG looked up into the skeletal branches that reached high over her head, long-fingered limbs intertwining to create a tunnel. Shadow's Passage... she'd never been in a more aptly named place. Over the course of a half-hour, they headed deeper and deeper into the forest; she was just beginning to wonder if the tunnel of trees would ever come to an end when it very abruptly did, meeting with the forgotten stretch of Brick Route they'd abandoned when it passed through the shield. In the failing light that managed to permeate the canopy, DG could see that some of the bricks had been relaid recently.

The trees grew a little farther spaced on the Route, and it wasn't long before they came to the fringe of what seemed to be the crumbling remains of a stone perimeter wall. Huge, gaping sections of the wall were missing. Other buildings began to pop up around them, ancient remnants of stone structures long left to ruin. The trees thinned out more, and DG could make out brown-canvas tents erected between the broken stone walls and tall black trees. Horses were tethered to posts hammered into the ground, all stamping nervously and watching her with gentle eyes.

DG tried to keep herself calm, collected. Hell, anything a step below hyperventilating was welcome at this point. The men of the camp had noticed their group now; some laughed or called out. Zero was recognized, and then the leader of the escort shouted for the others to put their eyes back in their heads and go on about their business.

The officer leading the group began to bark instructions at Zero. He made it a point to turn around and glare at DG suggestively every thirty seconds.

"I don't want to hear a word outta any of yer mouths. I won't be grieving none if she demands we put a bullet to each of ya in turn," the officer stated before he halted suddenly; Zero yanked back hard on the ropes around DG's wrists to keep her close. "Make sure you're keeping a lid on this one," the officer added, with a sharp jerk of his head toward DG.

DG glared at the soldier before her; she was angry and ready to lash out, but she bit her tongue. She kept up the appearance of a defeated little princess, cowed before all the scary, burly menfolk.

The leader's eyes drifted back behind her. "Who's the kid?" he asked Zero conversationally, as if the two men were old friends.

"Don't need to be worrying about that one," Zero said. "Its _this_ one." His free hand went up and wrapped DG's hair around his fist in one quick motion. He was yanking her head back before she'd realized what a good grip he had; she cried out in shock. It didn't hurt_, _he was careful about that, but the sudden pull jarred her breathing and sent her heart pounding.

The commanding officer smirked at her. "Watch that pretty head of hers. The lady has great plans for it." His chuckle reverberated coldly through her body. He began to walk again, and she was forced to follow. The bricks beneath her feet weren't solidly set, she felt as if she were treading on unsteady ground.

Catt's tent was larger than all the others, a pavilion of velvet brocade, the deepest red DG had ever seen. The tent was opened by the guard on duty, a young man who could barely contain the look of disbelief at the sight of not only DG, but Zero as well.

The inside of the tent was darker than the shadowed afternoon outside; a single lamp burned and it took DG's eyes a moment to adjust. There was a gasp of stunned pleasure, then a thickly whispered "My Gods." The witch was laughing, an unrestrained cackle when DG's eyes finally focused on her.

The Lady Catt clapped her hands together. Zero dragged hard on the rope and forced DG to her knees. A hand on the back of her head forced her chin down in reverence. DG tried to shake him off, but it did little good. The supplicant prisoner act was growing stale.

Catt approached rapidly, but to DG's surprise, the witch passed right on by her.

"Boy," came Catt's hollow whisper.

From behind her, Tory said cheekily, "Miss me?" DG could hear the casual grin in his voice, and she almost shook her head at his audacity. She began to realize that the kid had more backbone than she, and she sure as hell hoped he knew what he was doing.

"You always were a _cocky_ little thing," Catt quipped lazily. "Bind him, now. Be mindful, he's got a bit of a spark in him," she instructed her guards sharply. The sounds of a scuffle broke out behind DG, and she was unceremoniously hauled to her feet by Zero. He moved her out of the way to the periphery of the tent, displaying everything that happened to them both from the sidelines.

Two guards had set upon Tory, but he wasn't putting up much of a fight as they held him and tied his wrists. He regarded the bonds with disinterest, a tiny smirk gracing his lips.

"Is this really necessary?" Tory asked, gesturing vaguely with his bound hands. He sounded as if he found the entire thing funny.

"I should kill you where you stand," Catt spat. Her face was a mask of thinly-controlled fury, green eyes shooting daggers. Across the tent, DG had to stop herself from cringing, but Tory seemed immune to the witch's wrath.

"Why would you want to kill me? I brought you a present, old friend."

Catt turned on her heel, red hair fanning out behind her as she whirled on DG. "Ah yes," Catt muttered, as if she'd just remembered that DG was there. The princess glared back with all the hatred she could muster – quite a bit, considering all she'd been through in the past few weeks. She could feel her magic coursing through her, barely contained within her body as even the tips of her hair felt charged with her Light. "Little princess, all alone. Where's your old Tin Man, sugar plum?"

DG's cast her eyes down to the floor. She had no idea where Cain was, or if he was safe. She could hope all she wanted that he'd gotten to Azkadellia, and that help was on its way, but hoping could only get her so far. The cold, hard reality was that she was, as Catt had taunted, all alone; she didn't even know if Hass had made it past the shield.

She'd faced a witch alone before, hadn't she? Come out relatively victorious, if she discounted the fact that she'd been thrown off a tower the last time. She drew in a deep, replenishing breath as Catt stared at her, calculating every nuance of tone or expression the princess had to offer; stone-faced, DG gave up nothing.

"I dismissed him," DG said evenly. "I sent him to meet with the generals. He'll –"

But whatever DG had been about to say, it stopped in her throat, stayed there and died as movement behind Catt caught her eye. All the blood and breath went out of her as Jeb Cain shifted in the shadows, wearing the Lady's uniform. She couldn't hide her surprise at seeing him, but the Lady was unconcerned with what startled the princess.

"Untie her," Catt demanded of Zero. It was her first acknowledgement of him.

Zero did as he was bid, business-like gestures now, drawing no attention to himself through word or deed. As soon as her hands were free, DG rubbed her wrists where the ropes had irritated her skin and rubbed it raw. First one, then the other, watching Catt all the while. The Lady stalked away, situating herself behind a table. Over top the littering of papers, she produced an old leather-bound book.

DG tightened her grip on her own sore wrist, forgetting that she was trying to soothe her ache. There it was, right in front of her, the cause of so much worry, the cost of the information the Reader had given her. _The Record._

"I could find him in an instant," she said bitingly; an empty threat.

DG shook her head, called the bluff. "No you can't, otherwise you would have done it by now, and brought us back here yourself."

The witch's features tightened. "And he'd be dead, riddled with the bullets of a firing squad."

"Why do you think I sent him away?"

There was a beat of silence, and then another, before the witch broke in with a chuckle. DG stood her ground and resisted the urge to shudder at the pained cackle. "Take the princess away," she commanded of her guards. Immediately, men stepped away from the opposite side of the tent; DG was taken by both arms, the ropes that had accompanied her in forgotten in exchange for two sets of very big hands. Jeb made no move to leave the Lady's presence, and DG had to force herself to keep her eyes off of him and on the floor.

"Take this pathetic waste as well," the witch added, nodding her head toward Zero. "If he fights, kill him. Leave me with the boy."

DG didn't ask why the witch wanted Tory. Her stomach was twisting itself in knots as she realized she didn't want to know. Shoved out of the tent by the two guards holding her, and listening to the faint struggling that followed her, DG was led to a hole in the ground. A cellar, belonging to a building that no longer remained. She stumbled down the flight of rickety stairs into a small, low-ceilinged dungeon.

The air that enclosed her felt thick and old in her lungs. A stone corridor stretched off in either direction. Torches mounted on the walls cast long, eerie shadows on the cut-stone walls. The place was in horrible disrepair. The guards shoved her down the hallway. She glanced over her shoulder to see Zero being hauled off in the opposite direction, handled much more roughly than herself.

Thrown into a cell, she hit the stone floor hard. The door was slammed shut; a small window set in it allowed light to slice into the room through the iron bars.

Standing, DG brushed herself off.

_Locked in a cell, underground, in an enemy base, surrounded by a magically-generated protective shield, miles from anywhere friendly._

_Are you ever fucked, babe._

"Kinda figured that out a while ago," DG muttered to herself as she walked a slow circle around the room. Over the next hour, she studied every single inch of the space. The walls were crumbling, the ceiling sagging. She'd probably be lucky if the entire complex didn't collapse in on her.

The only thing in the cell aside from herself was a block of wood, which she upended to use as a chair. Leaning back against the wall shared with the next cell over, she didn't think she could take another self-assessment of the situation. She definitely didn't need to be alone at the moment.

She held out her palm flat in front of her, and watched as a round ball of light lit up her skin. It hovered a few inches above her palm for a moment until it set off, accelerating as it did a complete lap around the room. It stopped four feet above her head, near the ceiling. The shadows it cast on the wall drew DG's attention, and she carefully stepped up on her makeshift stool.

A series of stones had been chiselled out of the wall, leaving an open pass into the next cell. Too bad the hole was too small for her to crawl through. With her lips pressed together, she heaved a defeated sigh and hopped down to take a seat once more. She rested the back of her head against the cool stone wall. The wisp had settled down into her lap, pulsing lightly as it hovered over the Emerald still stuffed into her pocket.

She didn't dare take it out, or touch it. But she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Had she really come this far only to fail now?

* * *

***

* * *

"Grows dark."

Cain grunted. "I noticed."

"We ought to stop and make camp," Glitch spoke up from his position at the rear of the caravan. Travelling with the headcase had never been a treat, as the man had always been chasing after his distractions. Now, re-brained, he was still the same old nuisance, constantly drawn to things that perked his interest. Insects, especially. It was enough to drive anyone to the brink of irritation, and Cain had been biting his tongue for the past hour.

"_Aww, come on, Tin Man! Have a heart! I'm a thinker, not a hiker."_

Cain shook his head. He didn't need his own distractions muddling up his thinking.

The Black Forest was more overbearing than he'd imagined it would be. The trees grew so close together, their root structures must have been one tangled mess, snaking out and wrapping around those of its neighbour. The trunks left soot on his fingertips, the bark hard and black as pitch.

"We aren't makin' camp," Cain said firmly.

"We'll get lost in the dark," Glitch argued, running to catch up and even his stride next to Cain's. "I don't know if you'd noticed, but the broad leaves of the mature trees will block any light from the moons that you might be banking on. The canopy and understory are so thick, I'm surprised anything on the ground grows at all, but the herbaceous layer is abundantly diverse, and –"

Cain cut him off. "We won't be gettin' lost. You wouldn't let us do that, would ya, Furball?"

There was a scowl in Raw's deep voice. "Raw not compass."

"Can you see in the dark, Cain?" Glitch asked, as if genuinely curious. Cain rolled his eyes and didn't answer. Glitch was unperturbed by this, and went right on yakking. "Well, _I _can't, although I must say, my other senses are most certainly up to the task of naviga–" There was a thump, and an _"Oof!"_ and then silence.

Cain smirked. "How's your shoulder?"

"Oh, hush," Glitch said crossly.

Cain kept his remaining comments to himself, though he couldn't help the smile at crept up onto his lips. Raw chuckled low once, and then the men travelled in complete and utter silence, but for the beat of their boots on the road.

There was no chance of stopping, at least not in Cain's mind. Not with DG needing them, waiting on him. He'd told her two days, and that left him with thirteen hours, if his assumption of the time was correct. They'd been trudging through the trees without rest for hours, but there were still too many spans left to cover for his liking.

They were on a gradual northeastern route, one that would take them far from where the army had already begun to amass their force. Just a show, nothing more. A diversion.

Cain had memorized Andrus' maps, marked by the young sergeant who'd come out of the forest. He now knew the location of the road, the gatehouse at Shadow's Passage, and the layout of the camp itself.

Jeb was still over the border; Cain grit his teeth at the thought. He hadn't let Jeb take up much of his thoughts in the past few months, not with the boy doing so well for himself on his own. That didn't mean that Cain wasn't itching to wrap a firm embrace around his son's lean shoulders once all this trouble had passed.

As for what was being done at the moment, he had no idea what DG and the kid planned to do, but he knew that sooner or later they were going to be caught. If not at the shield, then before they'd reached the temple that was DG's destination for the Emerald.

_Deadwood Fall._

It took trust in Zero to force himself to believe he'd find DG safe, and trust in Zero wasn't something he was about to afford himself.

There was a soft growl behind him.

"Tin Man need more faith in DG. Princess is fine. Will stay fine."

Cain ducked his head under a low-laying branch, barely clearing the crown of his hat. "Would you mind stayin' outta my head?"

Another soft growl. "Body speaks without words. Won't stop, won't sleep."

"Time enough to sleep later on," Cain said. He didn't speed up his steps, knowing that the terrain was uneven and he was likely to turn his ankle if he wasn't careful.

"Worry over princess wrong," Raw continued in his simple, easy way of ignoring everything Cain said. "Should worry more about boy. Much more."

"Seems a bit unlikely," Cain mumbled impatiently, not bothering to project his words when he knew the Viewer behind him would hear every word he said.

"Is it right to call Tory a boy?" Glitch mused aloud. "Wouldn't the inner self be a greater reflection, no matter the outward appearance?"

"Boy, girl, don't matter," Cain said. "Pain in the backside covers just about everythin'."

"I found him delightful. Her delightful. Him. Well, whatever," Glitch said. "The child may aim to kill the witch, but one fact is for certain, he wants the spell upon him undone. Why else would he go in himself, when he knows that Catticalisa has been hunting for him for over century?"

Something in Cain's head clicked. For once, he wanted to be listening to Glitch's train of thought.

"Maybe he's willing to use himself as a distraction. For DG, I mean," the advisor said slowly, as his brain stumbled over the calculations necessary to draw his conclusion. The uncertainty of his tone, however, struck Cain as worrisome.

"Or..." Glitch continued haltingly. "Or maybe he's handing DG and the Emerald over as a trade."

Cain swore under his breath so darkly that a tiny gasp of shock slipped past Glitch's lips.

"Come on," Cain said steadily, looking neither of his companions in the eye. "Long way to go yet."

* * *

***

* * *

DG was growing a little tired of being stuck underground. She was a child of the sprawling, infinite prairies, of open highways. She began to think it might have something to do with the stillness of the air, the lack of the slightest tickling breeze. A little more than a day had passed since she'd entered the cover of the forest with Tory and Zero, and all she could think about was the warmth of the suns on her skin.

Down in the crumbling dungeon, she waited. She didn't know exactly what she was waiting for, just that something was going to happen soon, and she needed to be ready for it when it came tearing around the bend. Running over the things she did know in her mind didn't help much. Zero was locked in a cell down another cold stone hallway; the Lady Catt had taken more interest in Tory than she had in DG, and that seemed to be a problem; the Emerald was still undetected, but wouldn't remain that way for long. Especially since she was locked up and at the mercy of her enemy.

She just had to hold on. _Hold on, keep it grounded. _The words of the wizard of her dreams.

DG sat on the floor with her back up against the wall, a little to the left of where the flickering torchlight in the corridor cast a weak beam into her cell. Her legs were stretched out in front of her. At the moment, she was tapping her toes together, listening to the dull sound of the rubber soles knocking against each other. She wanted her sister; she missed Cain and Raw; she didn't know where Hass was, and was worrying about him more than herself.

She kept her eyes open, because the stark nothingness behind her eyelids frightened her. She wasn't scared of the dark, exactly; it was more the emptiness, the unknown of it. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. The Emerald, compressed in her pocket, gave a faint pulse.

She was on her own, which was never a good place to be. She'd always second-guessed every action she'd ever made for as long as she could remember; one bad decision when she was five-years-old had tainted her ability to trust her own instincts. Cain always told her that her instincts were incredible, but she couldn't quite bring herself to believe him.

_You've come this far, Deeg, _she tried to encourage herself. _It's just a bit farther. You've just got to figure out how to make it out of this cell, past the guard at the door... and past every Longcoat between the door and Deadwood Fall. Wherever that is..._

DG gave a quiet, hollow laugh and let her head fall, pressing her forehead to the tops of her knees.

She didn't uncurl her body for a long, long time. When she did, it was because the shouting and cursing from the hallway jarred her out of a fitful doze. For the first few seconds, in that bewildered haze between asleep and awake, she wondered where she was. Hitting her head on the stone wall of her cell as she moved to sit up brought it all screaming back.

The commotion in the corridor brought DG closer to the door to get a better look. A pair of guards held a struggling body between them. The only thing DG caught a glimpse of was a length of dark hair before the new arrival was out of sight again; it was the loud, angry voice that carried into the cell and piqued DG's interest.

"Godsdamned witch can't do this!" the girl bellowed, her voice cracking with the strength and strain of her words. The guards laughed at her. The sound of a rusty door being wrenched open and thrust shut again cut through the air, silencing the girl's shouts, before there was a reverberating _crack_ and then a plainly audible whimper.

DG raised an eyebrow. A tiny sound, and yet she'd heard it clear as a bell. It didn't take long before she was standing under the hole near the ceiling and listening hard.

"Stupid, stupid..." the girl next-cell-over muttered.

DG pressed both hands against the stone bricks and tilted her head back. "Hey, you okay?"

"Do I sound okay?" came the incredulous reply.

DG smirked; she couldn't really help it. She didn't know who the hell this girl was, but something about the voice struck her as familiar. She didn't believe it possible, but she'd thought that about a lot of things in the past year since being tornado-tossed into the Zone. "So..." she asked slowly. "Everything going according to plan?"

The girl snorted. "Not exactly," she said.

"Of course not." DG laid her forehead on the cold brick and resisted the urge to knock her head against it a few times. "Where do we stand then? Aside from locked up."

Silence stretched out as DG's quip hung in the air between the two cells. Then, the girl began to laugh; a nervous giggle at first that grew into a full-blown side-holding fit. The type of uncontrolled laughter that eventually gives way to tears. DG waited out the girl's moment until the inevitable hitch came. It grew quiet again for a few long, painful seconds before the girl moaned achingly. "Oh Gods, I've really fucked us over."

DG frowned. "Tory, don't –"

"I'm not Tory," the girl snapped. Then she laughed again, a short hiccup of a giggle.

"Then what do I call you?" DG asked with a sigh. She was losing patience, not to mention hope. A little shocking that she had any hope left to lose.

"You can call me Zee if you'd like. Just not Tory, ever again."

DG turned and leaned back against the wall; swallowing hard, she glanced around the semi-darkness. "You never answered my question. Where do we stand?" DG kept her tone steady and serious; she wasn't about to lose her head. Once she forced herself to be calm, continuing on that way was remarkably easy.

Zee cleared her throat. "Its a little less than a span to the temple. The only question is how to get you and your macguffin there. Our one and only ally is locked up and most likely going to be executed – as soon as the witch decides which body she wants to take. Yours or mine. He's low on her list of priorities, but she's not going to forget about him."

Jeb's face flashed through DG's mind. Maybe Zero wasn't her only ally; in any case, Zero had done exactly what he'd promised her, he'd gotten them through the shield and into the witch's presence. And whether she could count on Jeb had yet to be determined. She didn't have time to consider what he could be doing at Catt's side in the first place.

"Not worried about the Lady Catt taking a liking to your face?" Zee asked scathingly, interrupting DG's thoughts. "She might, you know. Your Tin Man is definitely a perk that I haven't got to offer."

DG crossed her arms defensively over her chest; a chill settled into her bones, taking root and spreading out to her very skin. "Wyatt would know it wasn't me."

"Are you sure?"

DG nodded slowly, even though Zee couldn't see her. "Yeah, I am."

"The mind believes what the eyes see," Zee said, quite sure of herself. "Look at your own sister. By the time anyone realized something was wrong with her, she'd killed you."

Craning her neck, DG glared hard at the gap between their cells. "Let's focus on now, please," she said. "Can you do magic?"

There was a long, deep sigh. "I haven't had proper control of my Light in a long, _long _time, so I'd like to wait until the headache wears off. In case you hadn't figured it out, Catt just put me through the wringer with her spell."

DG bit her lip. "Sorry."

Zee grunted in acknowledgement, but said nothing else. There were faint sounds of shifting and sighing in the next cell before it grew too quiet for DG's liking. Frowning, she shoved herself away from the wall and walked to her door. There were no guards in sight, though only small sections of the passage were illuminated by torchlight.

Damn, she really missed the glint and gleam of Central City, the towers lit up against the night. Homesickness sent her crashing; she slid down the door and landed in an unladylike heap on the floor. The flood of memories in her brain was unrelenting.

When had she become such a crybaby? Last time she'd checked, she wasn't a _woe-is-me_ type of girl. She wasn't a damsel in distress, and she was wasting precious time. She had to get the Emerald to the temple... what the next step from there was, well... she'd figure that out later.

Once again, she crossed the room, parking herself under the gap in the wall. "Zee?" she called out quietly.

"Yeah?"

DG took a deep breath. "I have a theory," she began slowly, "which can't be unproven..."


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

**Chapter Thirty Nine**

Gods, she'd been in this body for far too long.

Had it already been almost forty annuals? She'd seen three Gale queens through these eyes, seen the country torn asunder and born anew. The fall of Locasta the Lightless and the redemption of Azkadellia.

The child whose body she'd stolen had been beautiful. Unruly red hair, mischievous green eyes; there was a radiance and delight about the child that had made her irresistible. Upon taking her, the witch had gained a new name, land and titles. The face she saw in the mirror was that of the girl, and after a few annuals, the girl had stopped fighting, stopped crying. The voice inside had been hushed for seasons out of memory. But for the breathing body she inhabited, the witch would have wondered if the child were still there at all.

This body was Ixian, a proud lineage and descent that could be detected in the cheekbones. For over a hundred annuals, she had stayed out of the O.Z., jumping bodies as it pleased her, always listening on the wind for word of her homeland. The news had always been prosperous, favourable, whenever she'd managed to find an adventurer who had braved the deserts and the mountains to reach the Outer Zone... and return alive to tell the tale.

Soon, the news had grown darker. The fields had failed to yield a crop, and then the death of the youngest Gale princess. It was said she'd been named after the dynastic queen Dorothy herself, the little slipper who'd fallen onto the throne of the O.Z. as clumsily as a scarecrow would tumble to the ground. She'd brought a great treasure, and a greater curse, to her descendants than she ever could have known. The Emerald of the Eclipse, a stone with the power to bring light or dark.

The tidings of struggle and hardship continued to pour out of the O.Z., brought along by the wave of refugees fleeing the country and the famine. Very few made it across the border when Azkadellia's regime began their takeover. Once the young princess had seated herself on the throne, the news coming out of the Zone had ceased altogether – until the day of the double eclipse.

Catticalisa hadn't wasted a moment in returning to the O.Z. To gather the remains of Azkadellia's broken army and turn them to her cause was simple ingenuity on her part. To hide them in the Black Forest, a place that darkened the nightmares of the Zone, feared because of fairy stories, was inspired.

Everything had lined up perfectly; her spies had almost infiltrated the Central residence of the royal family, the Emerald of the Eclipse was reported safely restored to its resting place, and the weaker sister ascended the throne. With the men and weapons an alliance with the Outlander and his hordes could have supplied, she would be set to overtake the fledgling queen.

That is to say, once she'd captured the youngest princess, of course. But things had taken a wrong turn somewhere along her road; the Outlander had taken an annoyingly neutral stance on behalf of the Gales, and her book had finally come up against a spell it couldn't see through. Princess DG remained hidden to her, and the location of the tomb in which the Emerald was sealed continued to elude her men.

The mystery of why the princess had been wandering through the western mountains still held her baffled; she'd literally had DG walk right into her, and still the brat had gotten away, aided by her ever faithful Tin Man – and the Commander. She'd lost more than one man on that day, and vowed that with the royal army of the O.Z. at her disposal (soon enough, of course, soon enough...) she'd deal with the race of Outlanders cruelly and swiftly.

All in good time.

To gain the throne of the O.Z., a fork in the road lay before her. To overpower Azkadellia in battle would require the Emerald, a great channelling force. To take DG had been her intention all along, to make the girl's body hers, and all that the girl possessed.

But then out of the blue, a motley crew stumbled into her camp. A bound and oddly supplicant princess was presented as a gift by the very boy who had escaped her, and destroyed her first attempt at seizing the throne before the fortuitous arrival of Dorothy Gale.

Catt's first instinct had been to kill the boy outright, have one of her men shoot him where he stood.

Instead, more intrigue. The boy had wanted a trade. Freedom from the prison she'd constructed in exchange for the princess he'd thrown at her feet. Release him, and gain her access to the throne of the O.Z.

And just like that, Catt had found everything turned upside down, and in her favour! Two princesses, instead of no princesses... after a bit of a spell, of course.

The truth of the matter was that once she'd had the smug little brat back in her presence, she wasn't about to let him go again. Transforming the illusion spell that she'd constructed around the princess all those annuals ago, making the boy Tory disappear in a flash of light had drained Catt more than she cared to admit to her generals.

The exhaustion was worth it, however, to watch the boy writhe in pain before her. The change had been spectacular. The girl had come out of the throe barely conscious. To see the similarities between Pastor's daughter and the Gale princess was more than seeing past the wide eyes and pretty lips. Full of spark and fire, both girls were driven by guts and heart, thought always coming after action.

There was a decision to be made; one girl would live and become a vessel for the Lady's admittedly selfish purposes, and the other would die.

She'd had the girl imprisoned with the others. Pastor's daughter would keep until morning. All three fools would; the witch would deal with Zero in good time. Her priority was the girls.

She was reclining on a chaise lounge, weighing her pros and cons, when her generals stormed into her tent without announcement. Catt put her hands on her head, trying to stop its mighty spinning. "What is it?" she demanded, her eyes piercing into each of their tense faces in turn.

"There is increased activity from the royal army," Cole said. "Reinforcements have arrived at the South camp from Morrow. It's rumoured Azkadellia herself has joined the generals. A strike is expected, my lady."

"Impossible!" Catt snarled. She flew to the cabinet and pulled out her book. It was heavy in her arms as she held it angled against her body. She flipped through a number of pages before stopping and saying clearly, "Show me Azkadellia, Queen of the Outer Zone."

A frame of brambles broke out around the page before the image swirled into focus. The picture was almost too dark to see, Azkadellia in council with her northern general. "Lieutenant Cain," Catt ordered, snapping her fingers. Jeb Cain stepped up to her side, glancing over her shoulder to the page, knowing his purpose.

"General Peter Andrus," he supplied. "Leader of the Northern Guild. Her Majesty's first and foremost military advisor. Also –"

Catt cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand. "Enough, enough," she muttered. "Where is the camp located?"

Jeb hesitated. "Colibri Fields, my lady."

She glanced down at her book. "Well then, get a move on! Colibri Fields, show me now!"

The image of the book cast a pale glow on the Lady's face as the light of dozens of camp-fires suddenly appeared. Her eyes grew wide at the magnitude of an army that had only days before been a grouping of scared, scattered ants attempting to hide under a rock.

"Have our troops ready for an assault," she said, her eyes darting back and forth over the picture that spanned two pages of her magic book. Everything was moving ahead and yet she was falling behind. Morning would be too late; she was going to have to hurry along her plans.

* * *

***

* * *

DG was stuck. Again.

Finding a way out had seemed too easy. Of course, it wasn't at all simple, life rarely was. This seemed to hold especially true of the O.Z. Maybe it was just because she'd never been held prisoner or had her life seriously threatened on the Other Side, but one thing was for certain. DG hadn't enjoyed her quiet, uneventful life in Kansas enough.

_Grass, greener, got it,_ she thought unhappily.

The doors wouldn't unlock, not even with magic. She'd tried and tried until she singed her fingertips. The muttered swearing from the next cell told her Zee was having similar luck.

She imagined turning herself into a tiny mouse to scurry under the door, or a sparrow to fit between the window bars. The thought of changing into a bird had the automatic effect of making her think about Hass. She hadn't seen him with her own eyes since before she'd crossed the shield. Maybe that was the point, that he was keeping a close eye on her without being detected. Maybe it had gotten too hot and he'd turned back. Maybe he'd been captured...

"I don't hear you kicking the door in frustration," Zee called out. "And I don't hear you crowing in victory. What are you doing over there?"

DG swallowed back a sarcastic remark about a tea party on the ceiling. There was no point in giving the door another go. She wondered if somehow the metal used in the lock was impervious to magic, similarly to the rusted out cells that honeycombed through the Sorceress' tower in the West.

Or maybe everything had her so frazzled she couldn't have spun a doll if her life depended on it.

DG conjured a light companion in the palm of her hand, just to prove to herself that her magic was indeed working. Before she could banish the tiny wisp, it jetted off through the gap in the wall into the next cell.

"Is this your escape plan?" Zee asked. "It might blind the guards but it isn't going to unlock the doors."

DG rolled her eyes. "Just testing something."

A painful jolt shot through her body; Zee had forcefully broken her connection with the wisp as she'd banished it with her own magic. "_Ow,_" DG said pointedly. Growing steadily more despondent, she went to the barred window and looked out into the empty corridor. She watched the stairs for movement, listened for any of the mundane sounds she normally wouldn't pay attention to.

She wasn't going to give up. She didn't want to wait silently for them to fetch her; she didn't want to be locked away when Catticalisa finally decided who to keep and who to kill.

DG stormed away from the door, hating it down to the very grain, so much so that she was sure she could obliterate it with her magic, even half-focused. It wasn't the stealthiest plan, nor the most effective. And so she sighed, and tried the knob again with a steady flow of her Light. She tried to picture the tumblers inside sliding into perfect position. It wasn't for nothing – there was definite clunking inside the lock, but the door stayed latched.

She began to wish Tutor had spent more time with her on silly little parlour tricks. Summoning a ball of light was pointless; learning to pick a lock with her power, while not befitting of a princess, would have come in damn useful.

Cain and Az were coming... coming to do what, though? Could Az use her magic to bring down the shield? Would Cain try to infiltrate the camp as he'd down at the Sorceress' Tower a year before? Cain, alive, she'd been so happy then. She'd be happier now to see him, and her sister... though at the moment she'd be just as happy to see Zero, if it meant he were there to help her, as she was hopelessly stuck.

"What do we do?" Zee asked her,voice echoing from a room away. It was hard to read the emotion in the voice as it bounced its way to DG, but she thought she was beginning to hear despair, fear, and that wouldn't do at all.

DG opened her mouth to speak, but as she did, a series of dull noises sounded from the corridor outside. Approaching the window quickly but cautiously, she saw a large, dark shape spill out of the stairwell and hit the wall opposite. In the weak and wavering light, she made out the lump's shoulders and broad back before a new stain began to ooze its way across the floor, spreading slowly. She caught her breath in her lungs and kept it there as her stomach began to churn, but even that was stopped cold as the scrape of hard-soled boots skipping lightly down the stone stairs reached her ears.

The torches did little to illuminate the face of the person that came down the steps; DG pressed herself up against the wall next to the door, but kept the intruder in her sights. He bent over the body on the floor and turned the newly-dead guard over onto his back. The intruder went to work quickly over the body, removing the gun and keys from the corpse's belt.

DG's heart began to race a little as the intruder stood straight. He was lean and long of leg; she wanted to stay perfectly still but as the light caught the blonde in the intruder's hair, she couldn't stop herself from crying out.

"Jeb!"

He ran the rest of the way down the corridor and began to try keys on the door. "We need to get you out of here," he said; he was out of breath, and this close, DG could see that he was extremely pale. There was a slight shake to his hand that belied the conviction of his tone as he fought to find the right key. "Where is my father?"

"I don't know, exactly," she said, her hands tapping against the door impatiently. "With my sister, if we're lucky."

The sound of the key sliding into place and the lock turning over was music to her ears. She jumped back as he shoved the door open; she didn't care how pressed for time they were, or how much danger they were in, she stole a hug from him and caught him off-guard. He grunted, and raised a disapproving eyebrow at her as she pulled away.

"Let's get you out of the Forest," he said, and tried to take her hand.

"What? No," she said firmly; before he could react she snatched the keys away. She lucked out on the third try and yanked open Zee's door. To come face to face in the flesh with the girl she'd been seeing in mirror visions wasn't as odd an experience as she would of thought; instead, she found herself pettily noticing that Zee was a few inches taller than she was.

"We have to get to the temple," Zee said, grabbing DG's hand and dragging her along. Jeb followed quickly, but when DG looked back at him, she knew he didn't understand what he was doing or why he was doing it. The corners of his mouth were twitching downward impatiently; oh, she knew that look.

"How exactly are you planning on getting to the temple?" he asked. "And Gods, _why_? There's a hundred 'Coats between us and there."

"You're not afraid, are you?" Zee challenged him.

Jeb's eyes narrowed. "A little concerned as to bringing someone back to the queen alive," he said evenly, and his eyes darted to DG. "That concern doesn't stretch to you. From what I understand, you're the reason the princess is here in the first place."

"You're not on duty at in Central City, so you want to quit it with the 'princess' stuff?" DG whispered. There was no sand, there was no hourglass, but she could feel her time running out. She left them behind, breaking into a run. It wasn't until she'd skirted the dead guard and gone past the stairwell that Jeb hissed her name and he and Zee were running after her.

They didn't catch her until she was fumbling with the keys again. Her legs carried her past door after door, each slightly ajar, cells empty. He was waiting for her; all the commotion in the corridor had brought his attention. "Why am I not surprised you managed to find your way out of another locked room?" Zero asked, grinning easily at her as he leaned on the door with his arms outstretched in front of him. "You hear to let me out, Darlin', or to gloat?"

She didn't hesitate to begin finding the right key. Jeb caught up to her, Zee half a step behind. A smile crept up on Zee's lips as she realized what DG was doing. She gave a quiet nod as DG found the right key and unlocked the door to Zero's cell.

"There, now you owe me. Don't expect me to come collecting, but don't ever forget it," DG said simply, as if she'd done nothing for him at all. "Take your wife, and go back to the Commander."

* * *

***

* * *

As he glanced up at the solid wall of magic, Wyatt Cain figured he'd never seen anything quite so intimidating in his life. Up and up into the trees, the insubstantial glimmer of the shield winked at him incessantly. There was no way over, no way around, no way through.

To his right, Raw gave a quiet whimper; the presence of so much magic couldn't be doing anything obliging to the Viewer's senses. To his left, Glitch crouched down in the ground-cover, fingers running over the soil as he muttered to himself. Cain was able to catch every second or third word, but wasn't able to tie the syllables he caught into any type of coherence. Glitch, however, seemed to know what he was doing, and Cain left him to it.

"That patched up brain of yours workin' hard?" Cain asked low. They'd yet to see any of the Lady's soldiers but it was only a matter of time. There were a few hours of walking between them and Shadow's Passage, according to the maps drawn by Sgt. Travers. The gatehouse was fortified, and protected by the shield.

"Insects fly unharmed. Birds, too," Raw offered. "Magic harms people."

Cain grimaced, and looked away from the shield. The corporal would have been of good use just now.

"First sun is gonna be up soon," he said, aching inside for a wide open sky, to be rid of the cursed, suffocating dark of the Forest. The quiet, forgotten stillness of the place forced him to memories he'd rather not remember, places he'd exposed DG to when he'd allowed her to weave her spell to hide him from the witch.

The biggest barrier he'd ever encountered was before him, keeping from him the few things that were still dear to his heart. His son, the princess. There was a life of peace waiting for him somewhere beyond all this, in a future that didn't seem so certain any more. If they all came out of this alive and whole, he'd be tying the both of them up and forcing them to enjoy that quiet life with him, damn it.

"It could take days to locate a tunnel that runs close to the camp," Glitch said.

Cain clenched his jaw ever so slightly; he'd thought of that. "Then the gatehouse."

"Folly." Glitch shook his head.

"Maybe not, just hear me out," Cain said, suppressing a sigh. "You made a couple of guesses about what the kid was up to. Why not set store by that fine example and do the same."

Glitch's argument was ready. "We'll most certainly be outnumbered."

"We're both armed, we can handle a detail of 'Coats," Cain said. He found himself relieved it was dark, as the small grin that crept up on his lips would have been impossible to shut away. "Unless all the palace livin' in the last annual has you outta shape; I recall you takin' on a good number of men by your lonesome on more than one –"

There was an indignant snort from Glitch, and an affectionate chuckle from Raw. Then silence.

Finally... "They'd have to disengage a section of the shield to deal with us. We may not be executed outright. If the witch has DG, she'll be wondering where you are, Cain. She'll be itching to get her hands on you."

"Best not keep a lady waitin'."

"You sound very confident that we won't all be shot and killed," Glitch said as he stood. He brushed off his pants as the others joined him on their feet.

"You see this goin' down in flames?" Cain asked Raw, as he double-checked his ammunition. It was an old habit, and one that wasn't dying easily. He'd been up in the mountains the last time he'd used his gun.

"No flames," Raw said. "Not for us. Blood, not flames."

"That's reassuring," Glitch mumbled weakly.

"Let's not go makin' a racket," Cain said, as he turned them northerly to follow the shield.

"We can hardly have the element of surprise, Cain," Glitch said, following behind him on oddly stealthy feet. For the moment they had no choice but to follow the roughly-cut path that wound its way around the shield.

Cain had no intention to take them out of plain sight; not any more. Let the Longcoats see them coming.

* * *

***

* * *

The past two days spent in the Forest could never have prepared DG for the sight of Deadwood Fall.

The grounds were almost completely open. The only structures were the sets of carved pillars that lined the brick road as it disappeared under the field of flowers, and the temple that dominated the rest of the clearing. The odd little red blossoms seemed to defy the natural laws she'd grown accustomed to on the Other Side; the flowers grew out of every crevice offered by the deteriorating temple. At first she'd thought she was seeing things, the flashes of red her brain's way of telling her she was finally cracking, but no...

"Poppies!" she whispered in awe. Jeb had brought them around the outskirts of the camp, and then down a long, winding section of the forgotten Brick Route that led away from the fires and tents of the Longcoats. "I've had dreams about poppies."

"Yeah, that's fascinating," Zee said dismissively. She was looking around appraisingly. "There are no guards out here."

DG scanned the temple grounds, eyes skipping from the carpet of big-headed red flowers to the saplings that sprang up in the poppy beds. The entire place had an air of abandonment, but the lush growth and bursts of colour didn't seem to exist in the same world as the crumbling civilization behind which the Longcoats hid.

Zee was indeed right. There was no one in sight. The temple was completely unguarded.

"Where is everyone?" DG wondered aloud as she looked down. The poppies had stopped growing abruptly a few inches from where she stood; if she took a couple of steps, she'd have her ankles engulfed by the blossoms that somehow managed to grow from the cracks between the unevenly laid bricks. She bent down to pluck a poppy, breaking the weak stem. She studied it in her hands as it shrivelled and turned as black as the forest around her. She dropped it as it began to smoke; the entire thing had gone up in a puff before it hit the ground.

"The Lady has called her men to prepare for the inevitable attack from the royal army," Jeb said, and waded into the flowers. He reached out for DG's hand, and she took it without hesitation. "I dare say Az knows you're here?"

"Oh, probably," she said without commitment. Jeb glanced back at her and rolled his eyes at her. "What? I sent to Az for help. I didn't think she'd bring an entire army with her." Bricks under her feet and flowers about her ankles, she followed after Jeb carefully, trying to trample as little as possible.

"You told the witch you sent your Tin Man to the generals," Zee piped up from behind her.

"You're not really one to be making points about honesty," DG snapped. She resisted an urge to stop and turn on the girl, have this out right then and now. "Since your plan was such a spectacular success, I'm now making this up as I go along."

"I hadn't noticed," Zee laughed sarcastically. "And at least I got us here!"

"Would Your Highnesses please respectfully shut the hell up?" Jeb interjected. He led them under a pair of broken stone pillars. An arch had once spanned between the columns, but it had long ago fallen. DG's gaze continued upward, to the solid ceiling created by the tangled branches of the behemoth trees. How did the flowers grow without sunslight?

_This place is magic, genius,_ her mind replied derisively. _Don't you remember, it's here that your light will shine its brightest, and blah dee blah?_

_It's certainly dark enough,_ was her conclusion, followed by a shudder.

Jeb brought them all to a halt. The temple doors were carved with the angular symbols of the Ancients.

DG stepped up past Jeb, and stared at this hopeless new obstacle. The doors were sealed tight. She looked for a single symbol she recognised, but came up empty-handed. Zee sidled up to her, tilting her head back to take in the grand and intimidating sight of the temple.

"So..." DG ventured. "Speak _'friend'_ and enter, do you think?"

Zee gave her an indulgent grin. "I doubt it," she said. "This place is magic, it will understand and respond to magic. Hopefully favourably."

Jeb snorted. "Hopefully?"

"You can't make this stuff up," DG said, and took Zee by the hand. She didn't need to be told how this kind of thing would work. If it wasn't instinctual, it wasn't at all. She could pretend all she wanted that she was ready, that she was old hat at this, and not scared out of her wits.

All it took was a faint glow from each upraised hand for the doors to slide open. Jeb made a wordless sound of appreciation before stepping around the two girls and entering the temple with his gun raised. DG followed directly behind him, something she knew Wyatt would disapprove of. She felt safe, and everyone else be damned, she'd always gone on that impulse.

Her first breath inside the temple, DG knew she was in a place like none other she'd ever encountered. The air in her lungs and touching her skin, surrounding her completely was so charged with magic, she could feel its physical presence inside her body. Zee seemed to have been affected similarly, as the girl took a few deep breaths and swayed on her feet a little, all of it going straight to her head.

"We need to do this quick," DG decided. She looked around, something inside goading her to do this, and do it fast. Most of the floor was stone, but for the aisle that went straight up the center of the temple. It was made to complete the road that stopped at the door; the aisle was a path set in the floor paved with bricks of pure gold. DG summoned a wisp, and then a second, and a third. One stayed with her while the other two dashed forward to illuminate the altar that stood upon a dais at the far-end. Everything in the temple but for the brick path was unadorned and made from old stone.

"What do you intend to do, exactly?" Jeb asked her.

DG didn't answer him, only followed her feet up the golden path to the altar. She pulled the Emerald from her pocket before kneeling on the dais. She thought long and hard on the generations of women in her family who had kept the country and the stone safe; how all that had come unravelled through her decision to turn tail and run as a child.

The Emerald was the last connection to the past. Her family could break free of this.

She gave the stone a kiss for good luck. "Emerald of the Eclipse," she whispered, standing and stepping up to place the stone upon the altar. She thought of Dorothy Gale, and the past she'd glimpsed at in her dreams, the stone marking a Gale as its guardian. She thought of Azkadellia and the stone atop the Tower the day of the Eclipse. Darkness had almost come to the O.Z., and yet the sisters were able to bring the light back to the country.

The stone had fulfilled its purpose. It was no longer needed, and it couldn't remain.

DG shut her eyes tight, forgetting the others standing behind her near the entrance. She forgot the grey temple world around her, the forest outside, and every corner of the country beyond that.

_Please,_ was her only prayer as she cupped both her hands over the stone. She bit the inside of her lip to force her focus to stay on the stone instead of letting the flood of memories washing over her pull her away.

The warmth of the Emerald began to pulse outward in waves, growing hotter and hotter. She felt no pain from the heat, though her hands started to shake as a sudden burst underneath her palms threatened to break her hold over the stone. Her eyes popped open and grew wider still as she stared at the green light seeping out through the cracks between her fingers.

There was another surge from the stone; she was digging her teeth into her lip outright now as she struggled to keep her hands in their exact position. A third rush of power from the Emerald sent pain shooting through her hands. She cried out and forced her hands flat over the stone. The surface of the stone itself was hot to the touch, and the moment her hands came into contact with it, she felt her own Light pour out of her skin, unbidden and out of her control.

_Hold on, keep it grounded... hold on, keep it grounded._

The drain was immediate. When finally – oh God, finally – the spell ended, she fell to her knees before the altar, her hands shooting out and barely stopping her head from hitting the edge of it.

Jeb and Zee rushed forward. "What did you just do, DG?" Jeb asked incredulously as he helped her to her feet. She tried her best not to list against him, but her knees didn't seem to agree with her at that moment.

"I don't know exactly. Did it work?"

Jeb shrugged his shoulders as Zee leaned over the altar to peer at the Emerald. "I don't think so."

"Are you sure?" Jeb asked.

DG felt her resolve crack, just the tiniest bit. She pushed against Jeb to face the altar, only to see the light of the stone flickering dimly. _Something_ still contained deep within.

Zee rolled her eyes at Jeb. "Try to pick it up."

The rules about passing the Emerald were tricky and volatile. "Don't," DG muttered – too quietly, it seemed, as Jeb mounted the dais in a single easy step. He reached for it, baulking for a fraction of a second, only to have his hand repelled by a spark of green and the sound of an electric surge. Jeb swore violently, retracting his arm to cradle his hand against his chest.

Zee giggled. "Silly boy."

"Enough already," DG said. She picked up the Emerald, a snatch as quick as lightning, and held it up close. Underneath the stone's smooth surface, a pinprick of light glowed dimly on. Her eyes slid shut. She clenched her hand around the stone, and then just stood, because she didn't know what else to do.

The sound of tearing material pulled her out of her daze; when her eyes landed on Jeb, she saw him tying a piece of cloth around his injured hand. "We can't linger here," he told DG. "The suns are coming up, they're going to notice us all missing and be on full alert. We have to get out of here before that happens. We can make it to your sister by –"

DG shook her head. "No, I have to –"

"You have to _what_? Die trying?"

She swallowed hard, and her gaze swung to Zee, who in turn stared at her feet. "We aren't going to die," DG said resolutely. "We're too stubborn for that, remember?"

Jeb clenched his jaw hard and looked away from her; Zee grinned brightly. Watching her, DG realized they really didn't look that much alike. It was always that first glance that caught her off-guard.

"What do we do, then?" Jeb asked, a fighter of the Resistance waiting for his orders from she whom he followed.

DG pocketed the stone. It had grown cold, and there wasn't the faintest shiver of magic pulsing from it. But still, the light shone from within. "We have to deal with Catt. I need the book."

Jeb shook his head slowly, sadly. It was a gesture of inevitable defeat. When he raised his head, he refused to meet her eyes. "Let's go then, before the whole camp knows you're missing."

* * *

_Author's Note: Look forward to a reunion soon, I swear on the ruby slippers._


	40. Chapter Forty

_Author's Note: I owe a lot to Queen Isabella; a conversation about plot lines while I was finishing up "Of Light" has led to this climax. So thank you, thank you, a hundred times thank you.  
_

_

* * *

  
_

**Chapter Forty**

The threat of the royal army had Catticalisa's soldiers on edge. Cain could read it in their eyes.

The first patrol group they had encountered had been easily subdued. The men were so unnerved at being outside the protection of the shield that their attention was divided. Cain and Glitch were able to sneak up on the pair and wrestle them down. A few well-placed thumps on the head had them swimming into oblivion. Cain had tossed the bound and gagged soldiers into the thickest, darkest copse he could find. With any luck, they'd be devoured by a kalidah before mid-morning.

It wasn't long before they ran across an abandoned section of the Brick Route, one that seemed so arbitrarily placed that he needed to take a second glance to see if he wasn't finally beginning to crack. There was barely enough light to make out the pale golden colour of the bricks, but he knew that feeling beneath his boots. More familiar than anything else he'd encountered in the past few days.

"We need to keep headin' north," he told his friends.

"The magical charge from this shield is giving me a headache," Glitch said faintly, touching the scar that peeked out of his hairline.

"Aye," Cain affirmed, realizing he had the beginnings of his own hurt pulsing in his temples. One glance at Raw told him the Viewer was well past feeling too much of the shield's influence. So much magic. He heaved a sigh; they had no choice but to go on. "Let's go."

"Wait," Raw said quietly. In the dimness cast by the shield, Cain watched the slow silhouette of the Viewer bend to pick something up off the path. Whatever he held in his hands, he brushed off and handed to Cain.

The softness of it surprised him. As Cain turned it over and over in his hands, it didn't take him more than a moment to realize what it was. "DG," he muttered, gripping the velvety brim of the cloche. "What did you see?" he asked Raw, knowing that touching the object would have brought the Viewer a flash of the girl.

"Too stubborn to be scared," Raw said. "Days ago. Still alive, but... losing hope. Like pulse. Comes again and again."

Cain dropped the hat; he couldn't cart it with him and thoughts of DG would only haze his thinking. The mess she'd gotten herself into, the mess she'd asked him to willingly watch her bury herself in with his promise to help her out of it again. He couldn't let her down.

"Move," he snapped at Glitch and Raw.

The three left behind the section of road they'd come across, continuing deeper into the forest. The northern path that ran the outside perimeter of the shield became a little wider, enough for a cart or wagon to pass easily with little trouble. It was quiet, and he knew above his head, the suns were beginning to rise. The twins would brighten a day that he wouldn't see, and maybe perhaps he wouldn't live until their setting.

He was beginning to wonder why they hadn't run across a second patrol when the sounds of men making their way toward them reached his ears. Beside him, Glitch visibly stiffened, taking his most defensive stance. Cain himself hadn't taken his hand off his revolver since long before the first patrol.

This, however, was not the time to fight. The shield illuminated sections of wall within its barrier – the beginnings of the fortification at Shadow's Passage. They'd reached their destination.

"Stay where you are!" the first soldier shouted as he raised his weapon. The second followed suit quickly.

Cain stopped in his tracks; the others stayed uneasily behind him. He lifted his hands in surrender, letting his duster fall back into place with a quiet rustle. He was surprised at how unbelievably heavy his arms seemed.

The two soldiers staring at him down their sights weren't so readily pacified.

"You boys get lost?" the first asked. "Carriage break down on the way to _Finaqua_?"

Cain resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and settled for a stern look. There had been a time in his life when he could slip about unnoticed, just a shadow and an echo. The past annual had rightly fixed that for him. How had Jeb managed so long with his connections to the Resistance and the royal family?

"You think this is the route to Central City?" the second asked, chuckling a bit at his own cleverness.

Azkadellia would have hanged soldiers as undisciplined as this during the height of her power – and possession. As it was, Cain could see how it would be all too easy for Zero to march up to the gate, holding a princess out in front of him as an offering – and damned good protection, if it came down to it.

Cain sent up a prayer to his patron, and then said quite clearly, "We want to talk to your mistress."

The first soldier shook his head, amused with Cain's brass. "We're under orders to shoot royal army soldiers on sight."

Frowning, Cain gestured to his worn old travelling clothes, to Glitch's frock coat, and Raw's shaggy vest. "We look like royal army? You know who we are, just take us to the Lady and none of this hasta get ugly."

The second soldier raised his rifle and set his sights. "We're under orders!"

"But these ain't no ordinary soldiers," the first argued. He wasted no time putting the three intruders under arrest; that they put up little fight or resistance went unnoticed, if his smug gloating was any indication.

Cain had endured worse treatment on more occasions than he cared to remember; as it was, the 'Coats weren't so stupid as to keep from expecting trouble. And Cain had to admit that the threat of a barrel pressed into his back never grew stale.

It was only a few hundred paces to the gatehouse. Behind him, Glitch was watching everything with wide-eyed wonder. "This is magnificent technology!" he exclaimed, admiration clear on his face as he got a good look at the mechanisms that kept the shield running. "You know, you really need to get up close to appreciate the –" He was interrupted by a hard shove between the shoulders, one that nearly knocked him into Cain.

With a great deal of show, a section of the shield tailored to the size of the gate was disengaged, and Cain was shoved first through the small portal and narrow lane. The crumbled remains of what was once a great defence were far from abandoned. The courtyard was crowded with Longcoats; an officer stepped forward, shaking his head with a nasty smile.

"I don't recall nothing about taking on prisoners," he said, nodding his head to Raw. "A Viewer, maybe, but this trussed up fool?" His eyes landed on Glitch, and he smirked.

_Princess, you'd better appreciate all this,_ Cain thought with a frown as he counted the Longcoats in the courtyard. Glances up at the wall as they'd passed by told him that the perimeter was overly secure. His annual working with the army, hunting down what 'Coats they could, had taught him that while Catt's force was numerable, she was far from having man-power to spare, especially against the royal army in full force.

"You'd best be takin' us to your lady," he said, a keen edge in his voice, a distinct bite that caused the advisor behind him to raise his eyebrows, impressed.

The officer crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet. "Captain Cain," he said dryly. "If you've come to save your little princess, I'm afraid it's my sad duty to inform you that –"

The flash reached them first; the brightest green Cain had ever seen near blinded him. There was no time to prepare for the blast, and most were thrown to the ground with the sheer force of it. There was a great deal of sparking and smoke as the shield began to short; it died mere seconds after the blast itself, letting in a rush of cold air and knocking the breath from Cain's lungs.

"That came from the camp," the officer shouted to his men. He directed six of his soldiers to remain behind with the prisoners. "Kill them if they so much as breathe too loudly." He nodded to the remainder of his regiment, leaving Cain at gunpoint as he ran toward the camp and the source of a magical surge so powerful, it had knocked out the shield.

* * *

***

* * *

DG had never expected to get very far. After their narrow escape from the prison cells, letting Zero go, and now the Emerald's stubborn persistence to continue pulsing faintly, it was safe to say her expectations were dwindling rapidly.

Still, to find Catt's men waiting outside the temple doors for them was downright disappointing. She hadn't even bothered to fight; horribly outnumbered and at gunpoint, DG and Zee had lifted their hands before them; it occurred to DG that she probably had enough focus in her to do some damage, but draining herself would do little good if she'd just end up at Catt's feet anyway.

Jeb wasn't as lucky to receive the delicate handling DG and Zee were subjected to. He was roughly brought down to his knees by his feet being swept out from underneath of him, another soldier beating down against his back to make sure he stayed down.

"Hey!" DG exclaimed, watching as Jeb grunted and hit the ground hard. She wanted to close her eyes and look away, but some part of her brain forced her to watch what happened to others because of her.

In short order, two of Catticalisa's soldiers descended on both girls, wrenching their arms behind their backs to restrain, but not to bind. The hard-squeezing grip on her wrist was enough to make DG want to retaliate with her magic, but she kept it all welled up inside.

The trip through the poppy field was less pleasant when pushed. The heady scent of the flowers seemed to affect her more, causing her brain to spin dizzily, drunk from too much perfume. Leaving the poppy bed and following the remnants of Brick Route from the temple through the center of the camp left her chilled; she looked over at Zee, marched along beside her, and saw that her newest ally had been similarly affected by the blossoms. She seemed dazed, blinking away the haze as her head cleared.

The draping panels of Lady Catt's pavilion were drawn back for them to enter; DG felt as if she were being swallowed up. The inside of the tent was ablaze with lamps; a gathering of five or six of her soldiers stood around the edges of the tent, nearest to the shadows. In the center was the same table on which had lain the book, but it was now clear of all papers and maps that had been scattered across it. The tabletop was bare, but for an oddly shaped object covered over with a deep red cloth.

"You've been scheming, Princess," Catt said accusingly, glaring hard at DG. "Plots seem to be unravelling no matter which way you turn. Isn't that right, Lieutenant Cain?"

Jeb was hauled off his knees by one of the soldiers that intercepted them at the temple. With his limited free motion, he gave her an exaggerated mock-bow, which only infuriated her further.

"My camp is full of spies," the lady muttered, "among my men and lurking above their heads." In a swift, graceful movement, she pulled the red covering off the object on the table – revealed to be a cage. The falcon sat as still as a statue, and if it weren't for the single golden eye that trained directly onto her, DG would have thought him stuffed and mounted. Her stomach began to twist itself.

"Hass," she said quietly to herself, and then more loudly to the witch, "Let him out of there!"

The lady's lips curled into a dangerous smile. "So he can fly to your sister with the news that you're caught with a knife to your throat?" She shook her head. "I don't think so, sweet pea. I want your sister to think you're being treated with all imaginable courtesy."

"Then release him," DG said, trying to keep her voice even as she nodded at the cage. She hated how vulnerable Hass was, locked in a cage in his shifted form. She'd seen enough people get hurt because of her, she wasn't about to let another person suffer right before her eyes.

"I should have these spies put to death; _both of them_," the lady continued to threaten. "I should have them tortured."

DG stiffened. Jeremy Hass was one of the few true friends she'd managed to make in her first tumultuous annual as a proper princess, and Jeb was Cain's son. She couldn't let anything happen to either of these men.

"My men will not be harmed," DG said firmly, struggling to emanate Az's dominating presence.

Behind her, Zee whispered faintly, "DG, don't. Please don't."

"Your sister is encroaching on my borders," the lady said, her eyes cutting through the air to land on DG; she stared down with both admiration and disgust, which twisted her features until they were hardly handsome any longer. She looked purely evil, and it was only the heavy pounding of DG's heart that reminded her of her courage and her purpose and stopped her from retracting.

The lady turned to one of her generals, a handsome man who had the sneer of a Longcoat permanently placed on his face. "Cole," she snapped coldly, and the young general raised his eyes to DG. "I think it's about time we returned the princess to Her Majesty."

Cole seemed to know he wasn't understanding correctly, because he hesitated. "My lady?"

Calm resolution settled over Catt's face. "I may be forced to hasten my decision," she said, her eyes flicking from one dark haired princess to the other, "but it is my choice nonetheless. Lost chances have been regained, I only need to proper leverage. And you – " she said, looking sharply at DG, "– are just that."

"No!" Zee shouted.

"Conniving little monster," the lady said disdainfully, her eyes finally turning onto Zee, her lost princess. "Without the Emerald, you're just another pretty, useless face. You hold no right to the throne without the stone."

DG twisted out of the grasp that held her to see Zee chew on her bottom lip; a long second ticked past, and then another, and as time sifted away, DG realized that the girl wasn't about to betray that the Emerald of the Eclipse, the one thing the witch desired more than both girls and their privileged faces, was tucked away unprotected into DG's jeans.

Swallowing hard, DG tried to figure out what she was going to do. Her eyes skipped to the falcon, who watched her from his prison. She couldn't read anything in his quick, golden eyes. She tried to turn to see Jeb, but the soldier that held her forced her to look forward by burying a hand in her hair and directing her head like a puppet.

A magic surge rippled through the tent as the lady stepped closer to DG. With the soldier restraining her, she could barely move and had no choice but to watch every slow, predatory step that the lady took. The indulgent smile that slipped onto the lady's lips made DG feel as if she were about to be devoured. She felt wholly exposed, and struggled against the 'Coat that held her, going as far as to try an outward surge of her own magic, but she was too tense and anxious to focus properly. She was rewarded with a hard yank on her hair and the soldier's second arm closing around her torso like a vice.

"Leave her alone!" Zee all but screamed; another magical charge shot through the entire tent, weaker and less focused and ultimately ineffectual.

The witch's face had already begun to shift; the change was subtle, and it wasn't until the two women were face to face that DG was able to see the slight stretchy greyness to her skin. It wasn't long at all before the witch's face was twisted in a grimace of pain. She was no longer beautiful or stately. Despite herself, DG pressed herself back against the Longcoat that held her, wanting to get herself as far as possible from the dessicated old woman that separated herself bodily from the tall red-head that had stood there, solitary, a moment before.

The old witch was surprisingly balanced on her two feet as the red-haired woman she'd previously possessed fell back and landed on the ground, gasping and holding her head. If DG hadn't seen such an event take place once before, atop the Tower during the Eclipse, she might have wondered if she were having a terrible nightmare.

As it was, things didn't hesitate to get worse. The witch made a dismissive gesture at the woman she'd previously been. One of her generals stepped forward, his back to DG. A moment later, a gunshot rang out, and DG screamed, her eyes snapping shut.

"Look at me," croaked the old witch; it took to the count of three before DG could convince herself to open her eyes. This close, she tried not to flinch at the grey, translucent skin that stretched taut over the old witch's bones. She was nowhere near as ancient as the hag that had been released from the cave when DG was only five years old. This didn't make DG feel any better, however, as the glimmer in the witch's eyes brightened as she caught and held the princess's attention. "You and I will be good friends, girl. Just wait and see." Then she laughed coldly, reaching out to place her clammy hands on DG's cheeks, cupping her face. She turned DG's head from side to side, studying every feature.

"Yes, you'll do nicely," the old witch decided. "Daughters born of your body will be just as beautiful; one of the many curses of the Gales." She rolled her eyes. All others in the tent had fallen completely silent; DG felt as if she'd been abandoned. Regret was coursing through her body, as she realized how many wrong turns she'd taken over the course of the past annual, how much she'd taken for granted and how much she'd sacrificed for nothing.

Her mind flashed back to her memories of the day at the cave, when this exact fate had befallen her sister because she'd done nothing more than never leave DG's side. As the old witch reached out to take DG by the shoulders – another witch and another Daughter of Light in DG's frantic mind – a curious thing happened, one that jolted DG out of her daze and brought her crashing back to her reality.

The charge that came from the witch's hands was a strong red light, but her hands and their light were unable to settle on DG as they'd done before. The witch's hands met with a shield that protected DG's chest from the assault of possession, and it took a shake of her head and a hard blink of her eyes for DG to realize that the shield was made up of not her own faint white light but a brilliant emerald green.

DG seized her only opportunity. What little focus she could muster was concentrated on the Longcoat that held her; he was thrown back, knocking down one of the generals that stood near the door. She turned and found Zee, struggling with her own captor. With a hard outward shove of her hand, there was a streak of pale green light as DG forced the soldier away from Zee.

The old witch had begun to shout orders to her men, but they weren't able to wrench the girls apart before they'd clasped hands. "The stone," she said, her eyes wide with greed.

A shield of dazzling green encased the two girls; stuck inside a bubble skewed DG's perspective of the world. She didn't know how much of this was her, Zee, or the Emerald, but she could feel the sure and steady drain of all her senses as the shield was hit by another red-tinted blast of light from the witch.

"What do we do?" DG wondered aloud with a small laugh. The brilliance of the dome over her head was hard to look at, but she couldn't very well look away. No one outside the shield seemed to want to come near it; DG could only make out the faint outlines of the Longcoat soldiers. Only the form of the stunted old witch was mostly discernible, her features distorted by magic.

"Just –"

Both girls ducked away from the next spell that hit the shield; DG's head was beginning to pound.

"Just hold on," Zee told her. "Keep it grounded."

_Easier said than done,_ DG thought as she flinched away from another spell. She tightened her grip on Zee's hands, interlocking their fingers and pressing their palms together. As their palms connected, there was a moment of perfect, clear silence, and both girls turned to one another, eyes wide and uncertain. Then, the outward explosion of green light threw them apart, a rush that sounded like the surge of surf knocking everyone in the tent off their feet.

DG spent a long moment on her back, blinking dazedly and trying to hold her focus onto one thing. Her head swam with a thousand voices and images, and she was simply lost in it all, at the mercy of the next wave that came crashing in. Slowly, she fought her way to sitting, knocking the broken pieces of shelf and table off as she then struggled to her feet. She was the first; all the others were still coming to their senses. A quiet murmur had struck up as DG looked around; both Zee and Jeb were moving, but the table in the center of the room had been overturned.

She scanned the small area for the witch, but all she could see was a deep scorch mark on the ground and a black substance slowly oozing outward. Right before her eyes, a snaking shoot of green grew out of the ground, it's head bursting into the crimson beauty of a poppy.

DG laughed out loud; she couldn't help it. _The wicked witch is dead._

Without the danger the witch presented, DG tried to force her muddled brain to prioritize. Urging her feet faster than she was sure she should be moving at the moment, DG ran around the other side of the table, ignoring the three soldiers that were groaning and pushing themselves onto their hands and knees. The cage was on its side on the floor; the falcon screeched indignantly as DG righted it on the ground and opened the door.

"Hey, it's okay," she soothed as she reached in to guide the dizzy falcon out of the cage, "everything is all right." He stayed remarkably still, and she was glad because her hands were bare.

"You check on a bird before you check on me?" came Zee's choked, incredulous voice; she sounded close to unhinged laughter. Peeking over the upended table with her hands still firmly holding the falcon, DG placed him on one of the suspended table legs, gently releasing her grip when he got his footing.

It was then that DG noticed something curious; where had once been tattooed the crest of the Gales, to guide her on her quest to find the Emerald, now the symbol was cut deeply into her palm where her skin had pressed against Zee's. As she stared at it, the edges of the wound, of every line carved into her skin shone brightly, cauterizing and turning into a deep red scar.

_Huh,_ she thought with a shake of her head, _that's gonna hurt later._

DG turned her back on the falcon as she went to help Zee to her feet; a moment later, there was the _whooshing _of Hass' transformation, and he was coughing behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him holding his ribs with a grimace on his face as he stumbled over to her.

All around them, the Longcoats were coming to their complete faculties and hauling themselves to their feet. Wearily, DG realized their fight wasn't yet over; she felt sapped of all her energy, and her body ached all over to sleep. Her heart was still pounding, her head still ringing, and she didn't want to fight any more.

The youngest general, the one the lady had addressed as Cole, came forward, his eyes not watching DG but concentrated on the burned soil, the spiky fingers of black reaching out in all directions, and the single poppy that had sprung out of the ground. Haltingly, he raised his boot and carefully toed the gooey black mass that seemed to be both hardening and soaking into the ground with a faint hiss.

DG felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Jeb at her back. He had his weapon out, and seemed ready to aim it at the first 'Coat that came at them. The Longcoats, however, seemed more absorbed by the remains of their leader. Of the eight soldiers, only the three generals turned their eyes on DG, harsh and accusing. She wanted to stammer out an excuse, but words wouldn't come; she only stumbled back into Jeb and waited.

She didn't have to wait long; it was almost instant. The three generals approached her, their faces worn and defeated, and in the next moment, lowered themselves to one knee before her. The remaining 'Coats quickly followed suit, falling to their knees and bowing their heads in surrender.


	41. Chapter Forty One

_Author's Note: The positive feedback concerning the climax has me glowing. A glowing Rissy is a hard-writing Rissy..._

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**Chapter Forty One**

It was the shouting that drew Cain's attention; the forest around him had been deadly silent as the soldiers holding him captive waited for news about what had caused the blast. Despite their bemusement, there was no doubt in Cain's mind as to the nature of the light; he'd never seen that shade of green anywhere but glowing quietly inside the Emerald of the Eclipse. He'd never witnessed the beam of light coming from the Tower the day of the double eclipse with his own eyes, but he had a feeling that it would have been similar to the shock wave that taken them all down.

Glitch had been fidgeting nervously next to him when the shouting started, and froze in place. Another shout, someone's name. Finally, a soldier came running up the path.

One of the Longcoats, the Sgt. Barrett the scout was shouting for, walked to the edge of the courtyard, far enough away from the prisoners that eavesdropping would have been impossible. Cain watched the conversation out of the corner of his eye, until the sergeant motioned an angry arm to his prisoners.

"I don't believe this," the sergeant muttered as the scout ran off again. Though his eyes cut across all his prisoners, he addressed his men as he spoke. "We take the prisoners to the camp and deliver them to the Lady's tent. You men will then be briefed on our next move."

Cain was forced to his feet, knocking shoulders hard with Raw in the process. His legs were heavy with exhaustion, but he felt no discomfort or pain, he was too keyed up to feel much but the racing of his heart.

The path that twisted through the forest eventually met up again with the remnants of the old road. This they followed until they reached the camp, dozens of tents erected among the ruins of the ancients. His eyes slid past the sleeping canvas structures, instead focusing on the white stone peeking out between the black mammoth trees. He knew they were near the true heart of the forest, the hidden grove called Deadwood Fall; the camp itself didn't seem to continue that far, coming to an end along the meandering Brick Route.

If the blast had come from the camp, had DG even made it to the temple at Deadwood Fall? He'd been hanging onto the thread of hope that the burst of green light had meant she'd completed her test; as the road continued on into the trees and he was pulled off of it toward the center of the camp, that thin thread of hope began to fray.

The three prisoners were led to a larger tent than all the others, panelled in deep red. As the group approached, a solitary soldier came out of the tent; it was with great relief that Cain recognized his son. He kept his reaction guarded, but the smile on his son's face was enough to draw a small smirk out of the hardened Tin Man.

"Father," Jeb greeted easily; there was something dark settled in his son's eyes. Jeb clapped a hand on his father's shoulder, and greeted both Glitch and Raw.

"What's happened?" Glitch asked curiously, glancing around at the quietly shuffling soldiers in unfamiliar uniform, moving about the camp with their eyes on the ground.

Jeb gave a full, toothy grin. "She did it," he said, and then shook his head, as if trying to discard the smile already on his mouth for another. "DG, I mean," he clarified. "I can tell you, I don't think I've ever seen anything like what went on here. I don't – I don't even know if I can begin to explain."

Cain shook his head. "Wouldn't worry about it," he said. He waited until Glitch and Raw had gone into the tent to see DG before continuing his conversation with his son. "Are you saying Catt was brought down?"

"Down? She's _gone_," Jeb said. "The girls are inside the tent, resting. Both of them crashed almost as soon as the smoke cleared. Seemed to take a lot out of them."

"Yeah, it would. And all these Longcoats –"

"Swore allegiance to DG."

"A scout needs to be sent to Azkadellia," Cain said. "With the shield down –" It seemed that DG had solved all the Zone's problems with as little bloodshed as possible. If the royal army wasn't informed of what had gone on, an invasion now that the shield was down and the camp was unprotected seemed likely.

"Hass was good to fly," Jeb said, crossing his arms over his chest. Cain allowed himself a small smile of pride; Jeb seemed to have taken care of things far better than some of the royal army's more capable leaders. "If all goes well, Azkadellia and the generals should be here in a few hours."

Father and son took a long moment to study each other; the situation didn't call for an embrace, but it certainly warranted recognition. And as quickly as it had settled on them, the moment passed; Jeb winked at his father and nodded to the entrance of the tent.

"She's sleeps like the dead," he said with a wide smile. "Don't think she'll be waking up to notice you're here for a while."

Cain put a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed; the closest he would bring himself to a hug. Jeb made an excuse and left his father alone. Cain watched his son walk away before going into the tent and letting the flaps drop shut behind him.

Inside the tent was stuffy; all but one of the lamps had been extinguished, but the light was bright enough for Cain to see the destruction with his own eyes. The ground was covered with blood and scorch marks; most of the furniture had been turned over and hadn't yet been righted.

When he entered, Raw was glancing around the space nervously, his eyes skipping from one broken table to the next; Cain was sure the Viewer saw more than his own human eyes could. He had the fleeting urge to ask his friend what he saw, but thought better of it.

Glitch was kneeling next to an old, worn lounger on which rested DG, fast asleep on her side with her head pillowed on one arm. Her face was peaceful, and her breathing even. How easily she could sleep amazed him, when he looked around the tent. He'd been through less in the last few hours and he felt like he'd be up for days.

Shoved in next to DG was a canvas cot, and curled on top of it, mirroring DG's position exactly, was a stranger – though it took Cain only a few seconds of blank staring before he realized he was staring at the very same boy who'd popped out of a Papay tree two weeks before. The girl that DG had been seeing in the mirror, a princess disappeared for over a century.

Both girls had bandages wrapped around their hands, DG's left and the other girl's right. His brain automatically wanted to assume the girl as 'Tory', but he knew that it probably wasn't right.

Cain sighed heavily; DG and this mysterious lost princess were before him. Where was the Longcoat that had marched them off into this forest; where was Zero? He might have promised the damned 'Coat his freedom in exchange for his help, and it may have been time to follow through with his word, but he wasn't about to let Zero get away without knowing his location, without knowing that they truly never would hear from him again.

He looked down at DG again; her dark hair framed her face, fluttering with her soft breathing. He'd had the displeasure of seeing her drained before, and knew his princess wouldn't be waking for quite a while. He needed to track Jeb back down and find out what had become of Zero.

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_She woke up as if nothing had ever happened. As if it were all a dream._

_Surrounded by hushed voices, her mind swam in and out of focus. She could hear a dog barking in the distance, but when she sat up and opened her eyes, there was no one with her. The Fields of the Papay stretched out before her, behind her, around her. The trees were healthy – some might even say thriving. Flashes of memory remind her that it wasn't always this way, but as it is, these trees could stand one thousand annuals._

_She shivered, though she was unsure if it was either hot or cold outside. All she knew was that she, herself was cold. Every tree she came upon was like the next, tangled branches bright with green leaves, yellow and white blossoms. A bountiful harvest would follow, she felt sure of it, connected to it. The branches would sag with the weight of the fruit they would bear._

_She began to zigzag aimlessly, wondering where she was going. If all the trees had returned to life, singling out her tree would be nigh impossible._

_Soon, however, the endless stretch of orchard drifted and changed, until she was walking down a straight, tree-lined avenue; the domed rooftop arboretum of the Central Palace. She knew this place as well, and knew exactly where to go for the best view of the city. But as she approached the glass, she noticed something quite out of the ordinary... her reflection wasn't her own, didn't belong to her at all._

_The girl in the glass is wearing a wicked smile. There is nothing reserved or demure about her. Parts of her are concealed by shadow,making her half-there, not real. The lights of the city flicker in her eyes and skin; she's luminescent, beautiful. The girl reached up and pressed her palms flat against the emerald-tinted glass of the dome; she was about to mirror the gesture, place her hands flat over the glass when her name was called. Her proper name, formal, her 'uh oh, I'm in trouble' name..._

"_Dorothy!"_

_Both girl and reflection whipped their heads toward the sound –_

"Deeg!"

DG's vision swam into poor focus as she pushed herself to sitting on the uncomfortable old settee. How long had she been sleeping? The tent was so dim that she couldn't make out who was calling to her, but as the voice sounded again, so tired and weary but _joyous. _ DG's heart leapt into her throat.

"Az!"

The Queen of the Outer Zone threw herself down to her knees before the settee, crushing her riding gown carelessly as she wrapped her arms around the Princess Royal; to any that knew them, however, it was just one sister hugging another after one more close call.

"You're okay," Az said in a hurried whisper, touching her gloved hands to her sister's cheeks, and hair, and shoulders. "You're okay, you're really –"

DG tried out her best encouraging smile, though the haze of sleep was still thick over her, waiting in the wings to reclaim her. "I'm fine, Az," she said, unable to hamper the following yawn.

"No, you're not," Az chided, expression serious but eyes aglow. "You're exhausted, and you're hurt."

"Barely," DG said, trying to brush off her sister's worry. "Did you just get here?"

"General Andrus and I arrived a little over an hour ago," Azkadellia said. "I was given the reports on what took place here, DG, and – and well, I saw the blast with my own eyes." She sighed, training her dark eyes onto her sister's blue ones. "That was a lot of magic, DG. Ambrose and Captain Cain said it threw them off their feet from as far away as the shield. Not to mention that it knocked out the shield altogether."

DG watched her sister for a long moment before responding, still uncertain of her answer all the same. "I don't know what I did, or what happened," she said. "I don't know what was me, or Zee, or the Emerald." She looked away from her sister, glancing behind herself to where Zee slept peacefully, and as quietly and deeply as DG herself wished she was.

Az settled back on her heels for a moment, her face lost in contemplation; with a sigh, she rose and dismissed the uniformed soldiers bearing the crest of the Gales, the very symbol that DG now had branded into her palm, far more permanent than its previous incarnation. She looked down at the bandages over her hand, felt the itch and sting of her injury.

As she turned back to her sister, Azkadellia caught DG playing carefully with the frayed edges of the bandage. "Raw already had a look at it," she said in a way she hoped was reassuring, "but there's going to be an awful scar. He said it was the stone's mark, and couldn't be removed."

"Yeah, that sounds like something that would happen to me," DG said, a rueful smile spreading lazily across her face.

"DG, where is the Emerald? Is it... gone, or...?"

DG dug into her pocket, and extracted the stone to show her sister. It lay flat in her hand, dark and dormant. The light that had presided within had finally gone out, and a jagged crack ran through the cloudy center of the stone. It was, as far as both DG or Azkadellia could tell, just an ordinary gemstone, no longer a source of power.

"Well," Azkadellia said with a relieved sigh, "that's finished then. And the Gale..."

"Crossed over the shifting sands," DG said, frowning at the Emerald. She wondered if it could truly be as simple and easy as that. Her last opportunity to speak with her ancestress had never come; when she'd retrieved the Emerald, the tomb had been empty and cold. DG had done everything she was meant to, and rid her family of the legacy of the Emerald. If the Grey Gale was at peace or not, she could only have faith.

"And what of the book, DG?" Azkadellia asked carefully.

DG sighed. "Cynthia's price," she said. "I'll be glad to get rid of it. That old bat isn't going to do any harm with it."

Azkadellia leaned forward and embraced her sister; DG buried herself in loving arms, pressing her face into her sister's long, loosely-flowing hair. When Az pulled away for fear of losing her balance and falling over, DG had a smile ready.

"We can't stay here," Azkadellia said. "Once you're rested, I return to Central City and Captain Cain is going to take you to the Northern Island. I doubt Mother would ever forgive me if I didn't send you in the flesh for her to check over herself."

DG nodded. "Where is Cain?"

Az glanced over her shoulder, and DG followed the gaze. Tucked into the corner of the tent, Wyatt Cain slept sitting up, his hat angled over his face and his legs up on another chair. In her exhausted haze, DG hadn't noticed him as she'd barely been able to pay attention to anything past the tip of her nose. Now, she couldn't take her eyes off his boots, his sprawled legs, his hands crossed easily over his stomach. Azkadellia watched her sister study the sleeping Tin Man, and a smile crept over her face.

"I don't think he's slept in days," Az said.

"No, he wouldn't have let himself sleep," DG said, still absorbed by his still form.

Azkadellia rose and kissed her sister on top of her messy hair. "Get some more sleep," she said, a soft smile on her lips that was full of promises. "We'll be home before you know it." Her sister settled against the armrest of the worn out old settee, her head tilted to the side so she could watch her Tin Man sleep, hoping to slip into slumber herself. It made Azkadellia's heart pang in an odd way, and she hurried away from her the makeshift infirmary to escape the influx of emotion that threatened to knock her on her backside.

A guarded tent had been designated to her by Andrus; otherwise, she walked the camp alone and unprotected. Andrus had disagreed with this severely, but she'd waved off his warnings of trouble from the Longcoats, these twice-traitors.

Her tent, however, had become her refuge in these short hours she would reside in the Black Forest. Before she'd gone to her sister's side, Azkadellia had set Ambrose to negotiating the terms of surrender for Catticalisa's generals. The remains of the witch herself had already been gathered and burned. The body she'd occupied, the red-haired woman who'd been an innocent in all of this, was to be prepared and transported to Central City for burial, with all proper respects paid.

As suddenly as this storm had begun to brew, DG had put a stop to it. There was no witch with her sights set on the throne of the O.Z. There was no enemy force preparing to invade the city and overthrow her. She was safe, her sister was safe, her people were safe_._ With the Light of the stone destroyed, the Commander would be appeased and the threat of the Outlanders would fade into legend as it had before.

It was, as far as technicalities went, a happy ending.

Inside her tent, between an empty trunk and the cot, there was barely enough room to turn around, let alone pace. She closed the lid of the trunk and sat on top of it, her toes tapping out a rhythm on the dirt floor, fingers worrying in her lap. She knew she had yet to fully grasp the relief that was supposed to be washing over her; she couldn't figure out what had her so on edge, when she should be almost in tears with the knowledge that her sister had averted a war.

When the tent flap opened without announcement, she knew very suddenly what had been, but was no longer bothering her.

"Someone's going to see you here," she said; she wasn't berating him or expressing fear, only stating a fact.

"Let them," Jeb challenged, raising an eyebrow at her. His reckless attitude was refreshing, and exactly what she needed. The tension went out of her; her shoulders slumped and her head fell back and a smile spread itself quietly over her lips.

"I don't know what she did," Az said. "I knew she had incredible power, but I never thought she could –"

Jeb sat down on the cot opposite her, the space so tight that their knees brushed. He went a step further and reached out to place a hand on her nervously bouncing leg. "Hey, smile," he said, "we won."

She offered him a weak smile. There were things she wanted to speak of, things she wanted to tell and ask and beg. But it wasn't the time, or the place. She would not bog down this victory with her sadness. After all, this was her time to feel triumphant as well.

There would be plenty of time to talk when they went home.

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When DG awoke, her sister was gone and so was Ambrose. She didn't expect to be seeing much of either of them. If Cain weren't so burnt out, she imagined he'd probably be gone right along with them. As it was, one of his legs had fallen off its second-chair perch; even deep asleep, he had one foot out the door.

She sat up; it was dark in the tent. Then again, it was always dark in the Black Forest. When she sat up, she noticed that Hass and Raw were absent as well. She took it as a good sign that they were up, but she felt guilty about sleeping when the others were dealing with the aftermath of her confrontation with the witch. The first ten seconds on her feet were dizzy ones, and she had a powerful urge to throw up. She knew the discomforts would pass in a few minutes; magical hangovers tended to be much worse than their drunken counterpart, and this wasn't her first.

She checked herself over. Her clothes were dirty and her hair felt as if she'd gone riding without a helmet. She hadn't the stomach for magic, so she did what she could with her own two hands. She didn't need to _look_ like the battle she'd just been through, not standing next to Az.

Zee slept on, and DG envied her; she wished the other girl no dreams, for nightmares were probably a certainty for them both in the next few weeks.

"Looks like you didn't need me to come runnin' in to save you after all."

A grin crept up on DG's face, and she savoured it alone for a moment before turning to him. Cain was already on his feet and unrolling his shirt sleeves. His hat had been left on the chair he'd vacated, giving her a clear view of his face; when her searching blue eyes locked onto his, he gave her that passive half-smile and she was all his.

"You were late. I had to do something," she defended, crossing her arms over her chest. He finished one sleeve, deftly buttoning the cuff while giving her a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"You knocked us all on our asses with a light-show I bet the Papay saw." His words were hard and serious, but his tone was light, and she wasn't sure how to read him. Just like that, he'd shaken her. She watched him fasten his second cuff, and move onto his vest buttons. His clothes were as dirty as hers, but just as she had, he was cleaning himself up as best as he was able.

"That wasn't all me," she pointed out, letting her hands fall to her sides. Sighing, she spanned the six feet of distance between them, intruding upon him to straighten his collar. So secretly, she tested the realness of him. He abandoned his vest buttons and when she'd fixed his collar, she finished the buttons for him, too. It wasn't until he put his hands on her arms and she felt his steadiness that she realized she was shaking.

"You think you can hold those tears in a bit longer, Sweetheart?" he asked her. She nodded blankly, not really ready to give into her body's urge to release the tension that had been building up inside of her since her brain had started to work. The world had changed and fast, and there was no chance it would slow down for her to process it all.

"But Wyatt –"

"There'll be plenty of time to talk this out once we're somewhere safe," he said, and he was right. Once they were north, there would be time to unwind and decompress and discuss what had happened. The very thought of the quiet isolation of the Ice Palace helped to calm her.

"You ready to put that princess face back on?"

She hummed an affirmative; anything else she might have said was interrupted when Ambrose joined them. Seeing that DG was awake, he yanked her away from Wyatt and hugged her tightly.

"You two ready to ride out for Central City?" he asked, swinging his arms after they fell away from her.

DG's shoulders fell in disappointment. "More riding?"

Ambrose gave her an indulgent smile, tucking his arms behind his back. "There'll be army transport waiting for you at the edge of the forest. You'll be in Central City by midnight or so." While Cain looked unhappy with this, DG took it as good news.

"Where's my sister?" she asked him.

"With General Andrus," Ambrose told her. "She wants you to ride with her; Corporal Hass is waiting for you. Lieutenant Cain has already assembled the men for the guard detail."

DG couldn't help the smile on her face; getting out of the forest was the best news she'd heard yet. What she wouldn't do for a bit of sunslight, or a restful breeze. There was a definite hurry in her step as Cain and Ambrose watched her go.

"How many men on the detail?" Cain asked, reaching for his duster and shrugging his arms into it.

"A dozen, I believe," Ambrose said; Cain seemed satisfied with the number, nodding as he tugged his hat onto his head. "Have you seen the girl?"

Cain glanced at the princess sprawled on the cot. "Yeah, I saw the girl." She'd shifted twice in the ten minutes that he'd been awake himself; she was close to rousing. The sooner she did, the sooner they could leave the cursed place behind.

"The similarities are remarkable," Ambrose pressed, "don't you think?"

"I suppose," Cain acknowledged. He took another look at the girl; while he couldn't deny there wasn't a closeness, Cain thought the word _similarities_ only applied in the broadest sense. His best guess what that his perspective of DG had something to do with it.

The girl shifted again. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stretched catlike over the cot. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around the tent. The quiet wonderment on her face quickly gave way to confusion, and as her eyes scanned the space, clarity overtook her. She bolted upright and stared at her hands, first the backs and then her palms. She ran the fingers of her left hand over the bandaged palm of her right. Marked by the Emerald same as DG, she'd bear the crest of the Gales forever.

Cain cleared his throat; when the girl looked at him, her eyes were dark and familiar. She flicked her focus to Ambrose, and a smile spread over her lips and brightened her face.

"Hey, 'Brose."

The girl seemed to have taken a shining to the advisor, one that stretched to her stint at Alta Toretta as Tory. It was quickly settled that she would return to Central City under the protection of the royal army. She was eager to see DG and talk to Azkadellia. Ambrose offered to lead the way for her, and they left Cain standing alone in the middle of an empty tent.

He found himself musing over the new situation as he left the tent. He went over the route with the captain of the detail, and then replaced three of the men Jeb had chosen with three of his own choosing. Within twenty minutes, the group was mounting, and making for the gatehouse at Shadow's Passage and the road out of the forest. The Queen's departure was barely noticed; the royal army had its hands full with the surrendered Longcoats. His son was remaining behind with the generals to try and sort out transport to the Tower, where the 'Coats would wait for DG to decide their fate. Andrus was pushing for execution, and Azkadellia for exile.

The first glimpses of the mid-afternoon suns were dazzling. It wasn't long, however, before the horses brought them to the edge of the forest and the vehicles that waited for them. It was all reminiscent of the hours post-eclipse, when the royal family had been spirited away to Central City by the Resistance. He'd followed DG then as he followed her now; he knew his assistance would be much needed at the camp, but he wasn't leaving DG alone, not after what she'd just put her body and mind through.

The long hours in the truck saw DG curled next to him, sleeping with her head in his lap. Despite the few good hours he'd gotten that morning in camp, Cain's found himself unable to sleep again. Jeb would be a few days yet returning to Central City; that meant leaving DG alone at the Northern Island sooner than he'd anticipated. Once in Central, he'd be detained for a few days by the mountains of paperwork that would be awaiting him. After that, it would be back on the road, taking DG South to the Realm, and then West into the mountains.

And then... Finaqua sounded nice. After he'd gotten her before a judge, of course...

Cain was jolted out of a doze as the truck rumbled to a stop at the cliffs of Central Lake, just outside the East Gate.

Hass thanked the driver and climbed unburdened out of the truck. After telling the driver to wait, Cain got out as well. The wind was cold and had a nasty bite to it.

"You don't want a ride in?" he asked, as Hass stood near the cliff's edge, staring up at the expanse of the northern wall of the city; though the wall was brightly lit, most of the windows in the towers were dark.

"Nah," Hass said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Cor usually leaves a window open for me."

Cain nodded. "I want you with us when we travel West."

"Yes, sir," Hass said, smirking as if he'd expected as much.

Cain turned and headed back toward the truck. As he climbed in beside the driver, he glanced back, but the corporal was already gone, and the darkest part of the night would not give him up.


	42. Chapter Forty Two

_Author's Note: This chapter is rated _**NSFW**_. ... *cough*_

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**Chapter Forty Two**

The magical drain coupled with the long weeks on the road had taken their toll, and DG was little more than an exhausted heap of skin and bones. When it was all said and done, she wouldn't remember the drive through the city. She'd vaguely recall the cold night air slipping into her coat, and big steady hands that kept her upright. There would be a flash of a bath, less visual memory and more the lingering scent on her hair come morning.

It was before dawn when she awoke; the day was raw and new ahead of her, unwilling yet to let go of the night. Yesterday seemed a distant memory, but the shiny red scar on her hand, healed because of Raw, was only proof that it was anything but.

She sat up in the single bed, her legs moving between the unfamiliar sheets. Cain's Bellicose apartment was quiet, but for the drone of the city outside her window. In the hours between midnight and dawn, this district was one of the calmer ones, but even so, as she climbed out of bed, the cobwebbed shadows of the fluorescent lights shining in through the curtains whispered across her skin.

It was stuck in her head that they were leaving for the Northern Island come first sun-up. She looked around for Wyatt, but saw nothing to betray him but his duster hanging on the back of the bedroom door, boots off to the side, and one of his clean shirts from the bureau covering her own body. She glanced down and realized she'd buttoned it lopsided after her bath.

Her bare feet padded quietly on the worn-out hardwood as she went looking for Cain. There wasn't much apartment to search; she found him seated at the kitchen table, his chair angled out. His feet were bare and propped up on the corner of the table, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging open. He watched out the window, his face in shadow. He'd probably heard her get out of the bed.

"Mornin'," he said quietly. She looked at the clock; 4:30 am.

"I couldn't sleep any more," she said, standing in the door-frame at the end of the short hallway. Her fingers played absently with a shirt-cuff.

The silence that stretched between them was strung out far thinner than any she could remember. He'd opened the kitchen window a crack, and the sounds from the street sneaked in under the pane, adding their own night-time flavour that eased the strain in the room. The nights on the road had been full of nature's gentle rhythms; the noises of a city night told her just how far she'd come from the day before.

Finally, Cain let his legs drop from the table and beckoned for DG to come closer. "Well, get over here," he said when she hesitated. Walking over, she let him guide her down into his lap, her legs across his and his arm around her back. She anchored herself with an arm around his neck; only when she was situated did she seek his eyes. She caught them easily, the piercing blue now a pale grey in the poor light.

"Sleep, you ever heard of it?" she asked.

Cain managed a weak half-smile. "'Lot on my mind."

She sighed, unsure of what to say. If something was bothering him, he wouldn't give it up to her just because she started to pry. He trusted her implicitly, she knew that without question, but he just wasn't one to open up in the first place. So, she did the only thing she knew was right: she kissed his temple and leaned into his embrace, her thumb stroking the back of his neck.

"The –" he began, and then stopped. He licked his lips and shifted; she sat up straighter. "The 'Coats that I could get to talk to me, they – Zero was locked up. They said they found him missin' when they went lookin' for you."

DG nodded, keeping her lips pursed; this time of reckoning with Cain had been long in coming, and she'd do anything she could to help relieve his mind and break the tension she knew he still bore.

"Jeb told me it was _you_ that let him out," Cain said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "The only part I can't figure out is the _why_ in hell you'd do it."

"I couldn't – Cain, I wasn't going to leave him in there to die," she defended weakly. _God, DG, after all the times Zero left Wyatt to die? He's going to resent you for this,_ her mind berated her. She refused to make eye-contact; what was done was done, no going back.

Cain put a hand on her jaw and guided her to look at him. When she peered at him through reproachful lashes, he shook his head again. "I gave up worrying about Zero a long time ago, DG," he said. His conviction made her tremble down to her marrow. "I did it for my son, for Adora's memory, and never looked back. That isn't what concerns me." He stopped, and frowned, and dropped his hand away from her face. She closed her eyes at the loss of touch. "If the royal army catches him, you can't be steppin' in to save him. Not a second time. You understand me, Princess?"

She bit her lip, and opened her eyes to meet his again. "Do you think they will catch him?"

He ran his free hand down her arm, gripping her elbow when he came to it. His fingers flexed unconsciously as he sat in quiet thought. Finally, he said, "If he's not accounted for among the Longcoats in the camp, they'll be lookin' for him. If they arrest him, it'll be the gallows."

DG was at a loss for words. She fidgeted in his lap for a moment before he gave her a squeeze.

Then came another difficult query. "What did you say to him?" he asked her.

She closed her eyes again at the memory of the cellar dungeon and the heavy keys; all past and gone, so short a time ago. A day, or less? "I told him to go back to where we'd found him," she said. "And not to expect us to come looking for him again."

Cain heaved a deep sigh, one that she felt go all the way through him as she pressed against him. "Then it's over," he said, trying his best to be dismissive but sounding so very uncertain. "No need to waste time thinkin' on it any more."

"Wyatt," she murmured against his temple, wanting to comfort him, but in the next second his hand was snaking around her neck, pulling her down to kiss him fiercely. With the next stroke of his lips, he deepened the kiss, his tongue playing lightly with her bottom lip. When he pulled away, she whispered his name breathlessly once more. The hand tunnelled through her hair gripped the back of her neck, keeping her forehead pressed to his.

"I love you," she whispered, inhaling his lingering taste as the breath moved past her lips.

He kissed her again, as much of a response as she needed. "Want you," he said instead. DG swallowed the words as he offered them to her, lost underneath his heavy touch; his hands were bold as they moved over her body, knowing the valleys and plains of her. She arched into him as he cupped her breast, running the pad of his thumb over the material covering her again and again.

He held her steady as she moved to straddle his lap, tucking her knees tightly against his hips as her feet rested on the floor; the chair gave a single protesting creak. She rolled her hips forward against his stomach as she leaned in to claim his mouth. Her body was reacting to his every touch, every breath, and she knew if she didn't keep a level head, he'd have her at his mercy and send her spinning faster than you could say _"Old Brick Route_._"_

Cain groaned as DG pressed her warmth against his bare stomach; he'd been half-hard the whole while she was in his lap, but now he began to ache for her as she pressed her lips to his. Her touch was slow but deliberate; she wanted to play, wanted to tease him and see if she could get him unravelled. His hand returned to her, flicking open the top buttons of her – _his_ – shirt to sneak his hand inside the fabric. She was shameless in her little get-up, the only thing standing between him and _every _part of her were a few flimsy plastic buttons and a pair of very damp panties.

He tore his mouth away from hers. His hands went south, tugged at her hips. "Stand up, Darlin'."

She lifted her head and stared at him through an ever increasing fog. No doubt however that she'd heard what he'd said. He rubbed his hand over her backside, guiding her hips to grind against his abdomen a second time. She moaned, and he lost her eyes again as her head went back. "Stand up," he repeated firmly.

DG complied easily, a wicked gleam in her eyes as her mind came back down out of the clouds. Cain spread his legs far enough for her to stand between them. Sitting up straight, he started his hands at the backs of her knees and continued up to her waist. He hooked his fingers into her panties, pulling her forward. The shirt parted where it wasn't buttoned, giving him free access to the soft flesh of her belly. He ducked his head to press an open-mouthed kiss just above her navel as he slid her panties down her legs. She stepped out of them, and glanced down at him nervously.

DG's blue eyes stayed locked onto his as his hands returned to her hips. She was shaking, and he wondered if she was flushing that lovely shade that always overcame her when she let herself go. Carefully, he positioned her legs to the outside of his own again; though she straddled him, he kept her on her feet, standing over him so that he could see and touch all of her. He could smell her arousal as she moved so close to him, and he considered laying her out on the table and devouring her until she screamed. No, he was too selfish, and he could admit that. He wanted her, and he sought the bliss that only she could provide.

He ran a hand between her legs to test her, stroking her gently. With a stifled moan, she rocked into his hand. Surprised by her unhindered response, encouraged by that sweet little cry, he pressed two fingers into her. Her knees trembled as she fought to stay still for him. The feel of her, slick against his fingertips, broke what little patience for foreplay he had left.

When he pulled his hand away, DG seemed to sense what he was thinking; she straddled herself on his knees and reached for his belt. Cain watched every flick of her wrist and twist of her fingers as she freed him; he eased his pants down a few inches only before dragging her closer to him, finding her lips and kissing her hungrily. He positioned himself and roughly drove as deep as he could with one stroke. She cried out as he stretched her, fingernails finding purchase in his shoulders.

DG's eyes slammed shut as Cain's mouth went to her neck. Bracing her feet firmly on the floor, she tried lifting herself up only to have the movement restrained; his hands squeezed her hips and guided her to rock forward on him as she'd done before. His grip didn't let up as she followed the rhythm he set; it was slow, excruciating, and after a few minutes she thought she might die from pressure from which there seemed to be no relief.

She stole kisses from his lips when he was distracted by the sight of her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her breasts into his chest, but he refused to let her change the pace. She leaned back a bit, changing the angle instead and causing him to swear under his breath. She grinned, even as he growled at her and pulled her back to where she'd been; he locked his arms around her waist.

It stretched out, his attempts for dominance over her, and her flashing him a rebellious smile every step of the way. When he felt his inevitable surrender to her approaching him, his right hand dipped between her legs to graze a thumb over her center, his left still splayed over the small of her back, urging her hips faster.

"Harder," he demanded; the edge in his voice sent a shimmy through her spine. She came, hard and blinding, glad for the hand that guided her, because God damn, she would have stopped otherwise. As her tremors stretched out into forever and her hands sagged weakly on his shoulders, Wyatt pulled her hips down hard and finished with a hoarse shout. He leaned heavily into her, both hands going to her bottom to keep her hips completely still as he pulsed within her.

She was still trembling when he lifted his head away from her chest. "What brought that on?" she asked, her eyes fluttering closed as he shifted beneath her, sending more aftershocks through her. He made no move to leave the tight confines of her, and she mused over how perfect the warm fullness felt.

"Because our stay up north has gotta be quiet and borin'," he said, giving her a half-smile. Sighing, she nestled against him, her head on his shoulder, and let the seconds on the clock tick away.

* * *

***

* * *

After the disastrous trip into the Western mountains and back out again, DG had thought she'd seen enough snow for a while. However, when the forest floor outside the car was soon patched with glimpses of white, she smiled in anticipation. Even with its sad, dark history, DG loved the Northern Palace. The only way to erase the memories of the old life was to forge brand new ones. It would take time, but she could make it home again.

As the grand doors were swept open for her, DG was greeted warmly by the staff. Cain came in behind her, his eyes drawn upward to the vast ceiling. Of all the royal residences, this one intimidated him the most. A steward crossing the hall made straight for them, and Cain was hard pressed to contain his frown. There wouldn't even be a chance to settle in before they were right to business once again.

"Your Highness," the steward said with a curt bow.

There was a pause before DG realized she was being addressed. Embarrassed, she laughed. "Oh, hi, um... Michael?"

The steward – Michael, evidently – smiled. "Yes, my lady," he said. Cain glanced over to see DG shift uncomfortably over the specific title. "Her Royal Highness has requested your presence immediately upon arrival."

"Really?" DG asked, not hiding her disappointment. "I can't go get changed first?" She gestured down to her attire; she'd absolutely refused to give up his old shirt, and her jeans were worn ones.

"Your mother insists," Michael said, not unkindly. He motioned for him to follow her.

With one reluctant look back at Cain, DG handed him her single bag. She reached up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek before hurrying across the hall toward the grand staircase. When she reached the banister, she looked back. Cain was already gone.

"The captain will be shown to his room," Michael said, stopping a few stairs above her. "Your rooms have already been prepared for you, and you can settle in after your meeting." He was smiling at her as if she was supposed to be pleased, but these sleeping arrangements left a lot to be desired. Her feet growing a little heavier, she followed Michael to her mother's new suite. It was as far from the old rooms as possible, where the memories of their haunted past were boarded over and locked up.

The first glimpse of her mother was enough to break through any dark thoughts that might have held on. DG ran across the room and all but flung herself at the woman as she stood waiting with arms wide open. A happy grin spread itself unbidden across DG's face, and she pulled back to see her mother smiling too, her lavender eyes shining.

"I received word from your sister of your success," her mother said.

DG's smile faltered, almost went out completely. _Wow, not even a 'hi, how are you'?_

"It wasn't just my success," she said instead. "I could never have gotten close to the temple if it weren't for Je– Lieutenant Cain. If Lady Catt weren't so distracted by Azkadellia then –"

Her mother gave her a half-smile, and shook her head. "DG, my darling, don't worry. You aren't here to go over reports with me." She led her daughter away from the door and the two sat together on a cushioned bench, beautifully wrought but damn uncomfortable. "Tell me of the Emerald."

"I... couldn't do it all by myself," DG said. "I did everything I was supposed to do – or thought I was supposed to do. I thought it didn't work... if it _had_ worked, the stone wouldn't have had enough power left in it to protect me. Something inside of it shattered during the fight with the witch."

"Where is it now?"

"Az wanted it kept at the Treasury until I go West," DG explained. There would be historians and documentarians pouring in and out of the palace until that time. She was glad she would miss most of it by staying North for a few days. The unwind time was much needed, though it was hard to get into the habit of relaxing. It would all be better if Cain were able to stay with her the whole time, but his duties in Central City wouldn't keep as long as hers would, and he only had two days.

"You still intend to go through with your plans?" her mother asked gently.

DG nodded. She thought of the broken stone and the Commander. "Unless we want another confrontation with the Outlanders. I doubt they'd be so secretive about it a second time." She had no doubt that the Commander would be well aware of what had gone on in the Black Forest, and would be raging with impatience to get his hard, gritty fingers on the stone.

"This treaty you've formed is tentative at best, DG," her mother warned.

DG didn't know how to explain to her mother the confidence she had in the handing over of the Emerald to the Commander. She may have only made the promise to secure her life and Wyatt's, and to give her the time she needed to complete the task bestowed on her, but she meant to keep her word.

"The Emerald will seal it, you'll see," she reassured her mother, trying to instill some of the faith she instinctively felt.

"And what of these Longcoats, my darling?" her mother pressed; it was then that DG wondered if her mother were truly interested at all, or if she were only feigning curiosity at the behest of Azkadellia or Andrus. Either way, to DG's tired mind, the answer would always be one and the same.

"I don't know," she said honestly. She didn't know how the fate of the captured Longcoats, twice traitors against the Zone, had fallen into her hands. She wouldn't have her sister sign an order to execute hundreds of men, nor would she have them banished into the desert, which was ultimately an equivalent to execution, anyway. No, she didn't know what she was supposed to do, and hoped for more guidance upon returning to Central City. Ambrose was the only one she thought might be able help.

"You've done admirably," her mother said, brushing off her daughter's insecurity to take both DG's hands between her own slender, pale ones. Her mother's touch was cold, but DG found it almost refreshing, and she managed another weak smile.

"Cain was –"

"Captain Cain is to be commended for his efforts," her mother squeezed in. DG frowned; she didn't know how much Cain would like the term '_commended_'.

Her meeting with her mother wound down into storytelling. An hour later, when her father finally joined them, she was laying on her mother's bed, telling her mother of some of the things she'd seen; descriptions of the Black Forest, of the Commander's base underneath the desert. She left out her visit to the Reader's Parlour, thinking her mother likely to faint if she brought it up; while her mother would _know_ of the visit, the topic would probably never come up out of the impropriety of the entire thing.

"DG!" Ahamo called, and she jumped up to greet him, a more enthusiastic embrace than her mother's, without the fear of crushing gowns or catching earrings. "Good to have you back." The wide grin on his face was infectious, and she mirrored it, mostly because it had been so long since she'd been around happy faces.

Later on, her father walked her to her rooms while her mother dressed for dinner, an event long planned before her arrival that she had the bad luck to be in time for. She'd been roped in before she could blink once the topic had come up. Cain as well, she was informed by her mother.

"I'm pushing for something a little less formal tomorrow night," her father explained by way of apology. The dinner guests had already begun to arrive downstairs, and every window she passed, DG could see a new set of headlights in the distance winding down the long driveway to the palace. "The captain would join us, of course. Just the four of us. How does that sound?"

As much as DG had missed her parents, the thought of a private and all too uncomfortable supper party made her cringe. She could barely imagine sitting through the ordeal by herself, let alone forcing Cain to do it with her.

Ahamo kissed her on the cheek, noticing none of her reservation through his own contentment at having her safely beside him. "I'm real proud of you," he told her, opening the door to her suite for her. "The reports out of the Southeast gave your mother and I a scare."

DG sighed, already damn sick of the pride of others, especially when she could have done nothing without the support of those that helped her. "Scare doesn't quite cover it, Dad," she said, wanting very much to escape into her room and shut the door.

He smiled apologetically. "You're right, I'm sorry. See you at dinner."

As the door closed behind her, DG pressed her back up against it. The first thing her eyes laid upon was the dinner dress hung up on her dressing screen, beautiful and tempting; her mother must have gone to great lengths to have the dress ready for her arrival.

DG crossed the room and ran her fingers over the skirt. If she could slip this on as armour, be invincible; she could be like her mother, and speak softly and move gracefully and laugh and love as easily as breathing. The thought of all the people downstairs, mingling in the great hall as they waited for her mother and father made her stomach churn. She'd always managed to shove those kinds of butterflies down where she couldn't feel them fluttering away inside, but now she felt vulnerable and only wanted to hide until everything had died down and she could feel normal again. In charge of herself. Until she could deftly navigate her life without so much as a ripple; now, she felt as if she'd fall in clumsily with a splash.

Running her hands through her hair, she looked around the room, anywhere but at the brilliant glass beads dancing in the lamplight. The suns were setting, but her windows looked out into the infinity of a faded winter day. Her one small bag, containing its one small thing had been brought up and was resting on the bed.

Finally, she gave up on avoiding her fate. Before someone came looking for her, she dressed slowly and carefully. Crinolines layered carefully, stockings buttoned to garters, feet encased in pretty little silver slippers, DG checked herself over in the mirror. Pretty as a picture, confident as a peacock, but for her eyes wide as saucers. She stared at herself, wondering why she was holding her breath.

It took her a moment to realize she was waiting for the mirror to react some way. For the reflection to shift, for someone to yank her away from the looming doom of a society dinner.

Nothing happened.

_Isn't that what you wanted? It's over, and you're happy about it... remember that part? You just need to let it sink in,_ she reassured herself, but she was anything but. With one more glance at the beads flowing down her skirt, she turned on her heel and retrieved her bag. The book was heavy in her hands, and the leather felt cool as she pulled it out. She ran her finger down the spine thoughtfully. In a few days time, this headache would be out of her hands as well.

Still...

DG left her room soon after, her slippers making an absurd amount of noise in the empty hallway. She stole away, her feet carrying her in the opposite direction of the dining hall.

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_Author's Note II: The price of admission is a review. You weren't informed at the door?_


	43. Chapter Forty Three

_Author's Note: Another rating-related material warning. Another three or four chapters left? Hmm, who knows._

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**Chapter Forty Three**

All of a sudden, Azkadellia found herself alone for the first time that day. It took a moment for her to realize it, for the quiet to sweep over her and the stillness around her to catch her attention. A long sigh escaped her as her shoulders sagged, and her regal air slipped away and she was simply a tired woman in heels itching to get out of her dress.

She'd spent the day mending fences, as her father would have said. Her disappearance during the Harvest celebrations had finally brought to the city's social circles that something in the country was amiss. In the past sixteen hours, she'd patted more hands and soothed more worried minds than the entire annual before her coronation. The country was not at war, the country was not going to war, there is no threat to the crown or to the city or... on and on, over and over.

The chaos was contained in the Southeast, and the generals were determined to keep it there. All four men were growling over her sister's reluctance to decide the fate of the Longcoats immediately. After the defeat of Catticalisa, the men had all fallen to their knees before the princess in deference. Now, they followed only her orders. DG had ordered – though the message had been delivered by Captain Cain – that all those that had served under Catticalisa would be sent to the Tower to await judgement. Her men were to be treated kindly, and their surrender was to be remembered at all times.

_Her men_. Had the evidence of the witch's demise not been burned into the soil of the Black Forest, Azkadellia might have questioned if DG was no longer quite herself; she knew that the generals had questioned it themselves, and vocally. To the best of her ability, she'd convinced them otherwise. She was to be an authority on the subject after all, was she not?

Azkadellia still couldn't believe her sister's guts, and it brought a smile to her face despite the weight of the day on her shoulders. Ever since DG had been old enough to walk and talk and boss, she had been the brassiest of them both. She'd called the shots, though she'd looked up to her sister for reassurance and encouragement almost every step of the way. And then everything had changed, and they'd lost it all...

She shook her head, feeling her hair wobble insecurely in its pins. She bustled about her room, pulling her hair free and removing her jewellery. The hour was late, almost ten, and though she knew someone would come banging on the door before the clock struck again, she could get to bed before midnight if she was lucky. She didn't know if she would actually be able to sleep, but resting her weary head would help.

Her mind was on the next day.

Truth be told, Azkadellia was surprised at how easy it had been to leave Jeb's side once she'd been reunited with him. It hadn't crossed her mind to say goodbye to him when she'd left with DG and Captain Cain, nor had she been given much time to think about him – though he kept creeping up unexpectedly in her mind and throwing her thoughts off balance.

Now that all around her was calm and nothing distracted her, it all came rushing back in a painful torrent. She didn't like becoming so unhinged, and it frightened her; she didn't like not being in complete control of herself and everything around her. Her memories were filled with so much darkness, so much oppressive rage, so much...

This treacherous _unknowing_ would drive her insane before she'd figured out a way to restore order.

She debated the subject of _truth_ in her mind, and was not pleased with the results. Tears sprang to her eyes before she had much chance to collect herself, and she brushed them away with shame.

All would restore itself. In her life, things would fall into place, and she couldn't force them. Jeb would return late the next night, and by the next morning would take his place as a part of her household once again. Everything would be as it was, minus the small exceptions that couldn't be helped. She would smile, and he would know she was troubled. They would talk, and she would tell the truth. That was where her knowledge ended, her surety in what was and what would be, and that was a hard thing to accept.

She pushed it from her mind, as was the only option available aside from slowly going mad. She wrestled her way solo out of her dress and undergarments, slipping into something exquisite and comfortable. She kept her thoughts tightly reined in as she returned to her sitting room; she thought about her sister, who would return before the week was out. She thought about the other girl, Zee, who had spent most of the day locked up in her room, resting. With her resemblance to DG, there was no chance that the girl could be seen outside of her room. DG was wholly unavailable in Central City, and it had to stay that way.

The girl puzzled Azkadellia. She'd helped save the country with no mention of gain for herself.

_Not true, she gained her identity back, gained her freedom from the witch back,_ Azkadellia reminded herself. Zee had visited her in her study sometime after dinner, and had been mostly quiet, speaking only when spoken to and offering nothing all the same. There was something about her that still reminded Az of the boy, Tory. It was in the eyes, mostly, those dark eyes that saw so much and were as old as the Ancients; but more than that, it was in the mannerisms, in the ways she moved her body, her speech patterns. Though her body had changed on a most radical level, Zee was essentially who she'd always been, a bit of the boy and a bit of the girl all tied into one whole package.

It was something Azkadellia envied. Fifteen annuals, she'd been trapped in her _own _body, unable to cry for help or stop what was happening. She could see, but not connect or react. Zee had never been trapped inside herself, she'd been trapped inside another.

Azkadellia realized she'd perched herself on a bench, and a pillow was in her hands, her fingers tangled in the decorative tassels that hung from it. Rolling her eyes at herself, she set the cushion down and folded her hands in her lap. What would people say if they could see her so utterly lost in thought? What would her _mother_ say, or DG?

_Earth to Az, you okay up there?_ That's what DG would say.

A smile ghosted across her lips. Gods, she missed her sister, _always_ missed her sister. These past weeks had been so lonely, and then everything had escalated so fast. They'd been lucky, they'd all been lucky, and so few people were actually aware of just how close they'd come to another disaster for the country and the monarchy.

Azkadellia decided not to wait any more. She informed the guards outside her door that she was not to be disturbed. Unless Outlanders buried their way under the Treasury to steal the Emerald, or Jinjur's army was raised from the dead, she didn't want to see another soul until morning.

Her dreams would be peaceful ones. She had reason to dream.

* * *

***

* * *

Ambrose was tired. All of him, from his brain to his bones to the skin and tendon holding the whole lot together. Even his hair was tired; it hung limply in his eyes and refused to be combed back, but as it was late and he'd barricaded himself in his office, he left it. As absorbed as he was in the oscilloscope in his hands, he barely noticed the nuisance.

The device had been waiting for his appraisal on his desk when he'd returned from the south with Queen Azkadellia the night before. He'd run ragged for over sixteen hours, and was only now finding time to sit down and take a good look at the gadget. Needless to say, after a hectic day he'd been quite looking forward to taking the thing apart. As soon as he'd sat down and taken it into his hands, he was disappointed. While still hefty, it was far too light for a working model. After dismantling all the outer components, he'd sat back in his chair with a screwdriver in hand and begun to remove the casing.

His disappointment was justified, and amplified as well, once he'd taken the oscilloscope apart. While it _functioned _correctly, and would give generally accurate-_ish_ readings, it was little more than a toy. A very pretty toy, the polished wooden case showed that very fine attention had been given, but still...

With a sigh, Ambrose placed the screwdriver on the desk, beside the buttons and bulbs he'd removed.

There was a knock on his office door, and he jumped; the chair gave a creak under him as he flailed gracelessly to his feet. Putting down his curiosity, he strode to the door and opened it to reveal who he at first thought was DG. When her smile cracked her lips and her dark eyes glittered, he realized his mistake.

"Your Highness," he said, stepping back to allow the girl entry.

"Oh, please," she said, her grin widening as she slipped inside the office and the door was shut behind her. "You always work this late, 'Brose?"

"Believe it or not," he said, returning to the desk, "I spend my free time here as well."

"What are you doing now?" she asked.

"Tinkering."

She pressed her palms flat against his desk as she studied the surface littered with junk. He began to reassemble the oscilloscope, screwing the bulbs into place with a few easy twists. "You weren't kidding," she said as she left the desk, walking over the broad windows that looked out over the South side of the city.

"Have you just left Her Majesty?" Ambrose asked, half his attention on the project in his hands, the other half on the girl pressing her nose against the glass across the room.

"Yes," she said, "and I was mistaken for DG twice while walking here."

Ambrose looked away from the oscilloscope to smile indulgently at Zee. "Most people here only have a passing knowledge of what DG looks like, anyway. If she's playing dress up with gossamer and lace, people recognize her. When she's in jeans with her hair down, most of the staff would need a second or third glance at her."

"Oddly, that doesn't make me feel better," she said with a light laugh.

"My apologies." He went back to screwing down the metal plate. The screws themselves were tiny, and it took a great amount of focus to replace all four without dropping them crookedly into the slots. When he finally replaced the device on the desk, Zee had gone from the windows and was sprawled out lazily on his sofa, her head hanging back over the armrest.

"You look like you've gone over the rainbow," he commented, referring to the dreamy look on her face as she stared at the world from upside down.

"Gonna be soon," she said, turning her head to look at him. "The Queen wants me to stay."

"DG, as well," Ambrose said, putting his tools away in the desk drawer. "She can be quite insistent about this kind of thing." The princess settled back straight again, staring at the ceiling, though her features had lost the quiet, picturesque quality, and now she was thinking hard, eyebrows screwed together and her mouth frowning. "You've decided to leave, then?" he prompted when she stayed silent.

"Yeah," she said, one low and long breath of a word.

"What made up your mind?"

Her mouth curved into a crooked line as she took her time answering. "I don't really feel like I belong here. Not after so long."

"DG survived the transition between worlds," Ambrose pointed out. "You could do the same."

"No," Zee said, shaking her head resolutely. "No. DG spent fifteen years in Kansas. I lived on the Other Side for over a century. At first, I hid. It was a long time before I realized I didn't have to hide there, and no one was going to come looking for me. It became home. I'm going back, try the mortal, magicless life for real."

Ambrose nodded his head slowly, not agreeing with her so much as simply seeing her point. He had nothing to offer by way of advice; he admired her bravery and her pluck, but he couldn't bring himself to believe that there was a better place than the O.Z. out there. He was fiercely rooted in his homeland; even DG, who praised the world she'd previously known as home, had never once considered going back, not even for a visit. The Zone was where their hearts were, as old sayings went.

The princess sat up, holding one palm flat to her temple.

"When will you leave?" he asked her.

"After DG gets back," she replied easily, standing and straightening her skirt. She was a becoming young lady, but clumsy and boyish in her movements, more pronounced than even DG. He wondered when he would stop comparing them, but it didn't seem likely to be too soon. Fascinating, really...

"I've no desire to see the rest of the story play out," she said, and gave him a smile. Ambrose found himself disarmed, and hurrying to get the door for her. "I have faith that DG can set the rest of this right by herself."

"Then why wait for her?" Ambrose asked, leaning on the door and stopping her exit. "If you can summon your own storm now?"

Zee simply shook her head, flashing him another shy and subtle smile. "To say goodbye, of course."

* * *

***

* * *

It was well past ten o'clock when Wyatt Cain finally went searching for DG. He'd spent the evening juggling nobles and bourbon glasses, and was beginning to feel the effects. Luckily, most of the well-bred Northerners hadn't yet heard of the events in the Southeast, and were more concerned with Queen Azkadellia's appalling absence during the Harvest celebrations. He'd had enough inane prattle to last him months.

The first place he checked was her room, but it was empty and cold. Growling to himself, he lingered long enough to start a fire for her in the fireplace before continuing in his search. His own rooms were equally devoid of her presence; he didn't bother staying to change out of his dinner clothes.

His feet, by way of his instincts, carried him to the only section of the palace he was truly familiar with. The crystalline brightness and warmth soon faded into dull neglect; the hallway was dark, but the light of the moons coming in the dozens of hall windows lit the way for him well enough. The temperature dropped, and he found himself glad he hadn't shed his dinner jacket in his room.

This frilly, trussed up palace lifestyle wasn't for him; even as he walked the echoing hallway, he yanked at his collar and undid the first few buttons of his shirt. The cuffs were next. For a place surrounded by great plains of white nothingness, the Ice Palace sure did seem to lack for space and fresh air. He didn't blame DG for skipping out on dinner, but he'd have been in a better mood if she hadn't left him to suffer alone. He might have pulled his own disappearing act.

Cain found her in her mother's old suite of rooms, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the tiled floor. He gave the room a single glance around; not much had changed at all in the annual that had passed since he'd been there last. The rooms were still in a state of abandon, everything shrouded and thick with dust. The only repair that stood out to him was the window; the glass had been replaced, no longer a gaping, jagged hole filled with wind. He shuddered at the memories that visited him as he crossed the room to his princess; there wasn't much he remembered about that time, only a vague darkness and a body-piercing cold. It wasn't something he liked to think back on.

DG didn't notice his approach until he was almost on top of her; from the doorway, he had seen that she was reading a book, but it wasn't until he got closer to her and noticed that the picture was moving that he realized there was anything special about it.

"So that's it, hmm?" he asked her.

She nodded, and slowly got to her feet. Her black dress whispered about her legs as she moved, the silver beads winking in the dim light. She kept her back to him, the book cradled safely against her body. Cain peered over her shoulder to see the girl Zee walking down a hallway he recognized as being somewhere in the labyrinth of the Central palace. There was nothing remarkable about what the girl did, but DG watched as if mesmerized.

Cain wrapped an arm around her back, resting a hand on her cold, bare shoulder. "Didn't I have to sit through a long-winded rant about that girl and her invasions of your privacy through the mirrors?"

DG shrugged. "Payback's a bitch." She ran a finger along the top of the page, and shook her head as if disappointed, as if she were expecting something and getting nothing.

He didn't like her contemplative mood. "So," he said, running his hand down her arm and up again. She shivered, though not from cold; he could tell the difference as she pressed back into him. "Show me how this thing works."

She looked up at him, blue eyes dancing innocently. "Who do you want to see?"

"Don't think it rightly matters."

She frowned at him before turning her attention back to the book. "Show me Ambrose, First Advisor to the Queen," she said, and then as an afterthought added, "Please."

The picture darkened into black and then began to brighten again. The gilded frame that had surrounded the picture receded, and a new one curled around the page in its place, made up of tangled lengths of red and blue wire. The picture itself was blurry and grey until the border was firmly in place. Only then did it come into focus, Ambrose sitting at his desk, already returned to his duties in the city. He was leaning back in his chair, holding some sort of cracked-open gadget before his eyes, scrutinizing every wire, every connector, every groove in the black casing.

"Ain't that somethin'," Cain mused.

"It's wrong," DG said, closing the book. "It's reality TV, only they don't know you're watching." She dropped the book onto the bed, and then walked away from him. Her silver slippers clicked faintly on the tiled floor as went to the window. The frosted glass offered her no view, nothing beyond but snow and moonslight anyway. He wondered what she saw when she stared at the blueish glass.

"You gonna tell me what's got you so down?" he asked.

She was silent for a long time, and even then, she completely avoided answering his question. "Is this where...?" she asked, tracing her finger along the glass of the center window frame.

"Yeah," he said, words clipped. The long, exhausting evening had his patience wearing thin, and he was of half a mind to bid her goodnight and leave her there to brood alone. The low, warm hum the bourbon had put into his blood was something he could almost hear in the quietude.

DG turned to look at him, her expression hazy as if caught in a daydream. Slowly, a look of clarity overtook her, and her blue eyes widened as she saw him as if for the first time. "I forgot supper," she said, covering her mouth with her hand. With the other, she gestured faintly at him standing in his dark blue jacket and crisp white shirt.

Cain barked a laugh. "Forgot? Supper was almost three hours ago, Darlin'."

She waved vaguely to the tomb-like room around them. "I got distracted."

"I noticed." He hadn't intended to make her wince with the bite in his tone, but that was the result. Her lips pursed together as she tried to gauge his mood. One look at her, so forlornly outlined against the window tugged at his heartstrings, wound too tight as it was. "Listen, if you aren't gonna –"

"Was anybody important at supper?" she interrupted. The fact that she'd asked so breezily, her mood shifted so easily from melancholy to keen interest, told him she didn't care about dinner at all, just that she wanted the subject changed. Fine, he'd play her game.

"No, because you were up here, hidin'," he said, hoping she'd take the compliment. When a smile ghosted across her lips, he knew she had. She ran her hands absently over her dress, thumbs brushing the elaborate bead-work that dripped down the skirt like drops of water. "Your mother nearly sent a handful of guards to look for you."

DG wrinkled her nose. "Subtle," she said, shaking her head. "Did you change her mind?"

He nodded without answering; she leaned her head back against the window, settled her shoulders against the glass with a shiver at the cold touch. There was nothing seductive about her pose, but something in her still drew him magnetically.

"She thinks very highly of you, you know," DG said quietly, as if she wished it weren't so.

"Been avoidin' that woman since we arrived," he said, and a smile spread across his lips as she laughed at his admission. "With all her gratitude and open praisin', makes me feel I should be a lot bigger and braver than I am." His eyes went to the floor, seeing only individual tiles and never the whole. It _was_ true, he was no hero, his choices and his success weren't anything to be lauded over. He was just too damned hard-headed to know when to put his hands up and back the hell off.

DG sighed, long and low. Her eyes captured his, and he could see his torment mirrored in them; she knew what he felt, knew the loneliness of it. After the moment of silence stretched out too long, her slippers scraped as she shifted her feet uncomfortably.

"Sounds like you need to do something to fall from Her Highness's good graces," DG said, and she bit her bottom lip. She was getting fidgety again. He walked slowly over to her and seized her by the waist, hands roughly finding a hold on the slippery fabric of her dress. The skirt rustled as it slid against his trousers.

"And what might that be?" he asked her, still playing her game. He raised an eyebrow at her in question when she hesitated. "Well, spit it out."

She turned those eyes on him with a force. "You could elope with her daughter," she whispered so faintly that he almost made her repeat herself. As it was, his entire body froze as what she suggested registered with his slow, slow mind. Her jaw dropped as the words fell out of her mouth, shocked she'd heard herself say them out loud.

"Princess –" he began, but she shook her head so vehemently at it that he immediately corrected himself. "Deeg, you thought that one through all the way?"

She swallowed hard. "Not exactly," she said slowly. "But I know it's right. I can't – I don't want –" She looked at him pleadingly. "It might not be what I want, but it's what we both need. If it's really important to everyone else, we can do something public after."

The corner of his mouth quirked; he fought off the smile, but he knew it would come back with a vengeance. He pulled her closer, away from the window. She threw her arms around his neck, not excited in any sense; relieved, he supposed, and he felt it all too well in his own bones. Avoiding the charade of a royal wedding suited him just fine.

Cain stood and held DG for what felt like an eternity; his mind ran wild while she stayed comfortable and secure, though he knew her thoughts must be as rampant as his own. Her back and shoulders were covered with goosebumps that prickled under his fingers as he ran his hands down her arms.

The cold in the room was beginning to get to him, sneaking down the back of his neck and up his sleeves, icy touches that near seeped into his skin; needless to say, he was rendered shivering. More than the frigid, dry air of a long neglected place, it was a restless room, and it made him uneasy to be there. There was no presence, no shadow. The ghosts of the past were quiet here, but by no means absent.

DG put her hand on the side of his face, and he glanced down at her. Given the state of dress she was in, the girl should have been trembling in her slippers, but she seemed to weather the cold better than he. She pressed warm lips to his cleanly-shaven jaw, more of a caress than a kiss. With her hand, she gently tilted his face toward her, so she could press the same feather-light kiss to his mouth. She pushed up on her tiptoes, and it was always natural for him to steady her with an arm around her waist. She leaned into him, his arm pulling her forward, and their second kiss was fiercer, hurried.

"You taste like... liquid protection," she said with a grin.

Cain smirked; she looked a little drunk herself from their kiss. "Couldn't'a made it through the night without it."

She apologized, so sincere that it hurt his heart; he hushed her and leaned in to kiss her again.

"Let me take you back," he said when they finally broke apart, their eyes immediately locking to keep the contact their mouths had abandoned. She was pleading with him without making a sound. Cain clenched his jaw and looked away from her, to the blue-tinted glass at her back, the moonslight coming in giving everything in the room a pale glow, an ethereal light that lent too much to the atmosphere.

"You never answered me."

Cain's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Do you want to marry me? Just you and me? And soon? You didn't –" DG's words were cut short as he sealed his mouth over hers. Anything to stop that quiet, hopeful voice from becoming more excited. Though, a little bit of a think through on his tactics might have served him better, as she moaned against his kiss and pulled herself closer than he thought it was possible to get considering the amount of skirt between them.

He backed her up against the window; she hissed lightly as her shoulders made contact with the cold glass. Desire was quickly replacing common sense as her words ran over and over again in his brain. Of course he wanted her; he wouldn't tell her that he'd track someone down to marry them once he got to Central City ahead of her, that there would be wedding bands on their fingers before the week was out. Instead, he only pressed the smallest, quietest promises to her lips.

"I oughta get you back to bed," he whispered huskily against her cheek as he broke the kiss for a gulp of air. He pawed at her round bottom through her gown, the fabric slippery and cold underneath his restless fingertips.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Here." Her pale eyes begged him as she waited for some sort of assent.

Cain barely acknowledged her before sweeping in to take her mouth again, her head clunking lightly against the window with the force of his kiss. She moaned deep into him, opening herself under his lips, following his every lead. It was in her nature to give herself over wholly and completely; he loved her for it more than he could ever express. Words, however, seemed to have little place between them as her hand slipped down between them to cup him through his trousers. Her fingernails tickled him lightly through the material as he grew hard against her; she giggled into his mouth as she tried to work the button fly.

"That fast, hmm?" he asked as she fell away from the kiss.

Her blue eyes seemed feverish when she looked at him reproachfully; something deep inside was taking her over, and he could feel it in his own self, his own need and desire to cling to her as their rapidly spinning world slowed into the rhythms of the life that had gone on for the rest of the world. That morning, when he'd pulled her into his lap, he'd been putting a lid on the tormented past, on their whirlwind journey. Tonight there was only the future that lie ahead of them, the hope of possibility brought in on the cold northern wind.

"Wyatt," she pleaded, when he'd stared at her for too long. Smirking, he leaned in again, breathing in the sweet perfume she wore as he assaulted the soft skin of her neck with the hot press of his lips. His teeth grazed her, his tongue laved at her; she tasted so sweet and clean that he didn't want to move on. Restraining himself only to keep from marking her, he pinned her against the window, a forearm above his head to brace himself as the opposite hand ran a familiar path from her neck to her breast. He squeezed her possessively, and a small cry fell from her lips as she gave his buttons a final tug and slid her chilled fingertips into his trousers.

The first contact of skin on skin made Cain's eyes pop, and he leaned his head into her shoulder, giving himself over to her ministrations as her hand enclosed him and gently eased him out of his trousers. She stroked him, confidence building in her with every smooth motion; he moaned his approval quietly into her hair.

"You sure are a pushy little thing," he said, closing his eyes as she made another pass of her hand.

"Try not to sound so pleased about it," she replied breezily, burying her laughter in his neck.

He reached down to slip his hands under her skirt; the material gathered on his wrists as he burrowed through layers and layers of ivory gauze to reach bare skin. The rustling of fabric drowned out all other noise but for his pulse pounding through him. Her stockings ran to her mid-thigh, buttoned into place by garters; the skin above was hot beneath his hands as he ran them around the backs of her thighs. He picked her up, surprising her with the sudden upward movement. She reached out to brace herself on his shoulders and nearly overbalanced them. He tightened his grip on her legs, letting his fingers bite into the soft flesh.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"Don't fancy goin' through that window again," he told her, and might've added that taking her out with him was a poor idea as well, but she locked her mouth over his before he had the chance to take another breath. She took advantage of her position above him, leading his mouth under her with ease. She was nippy with her kisses, pulling away and diving in again from another angle, waiting for him to try and deepen the kiss before slipping away again.

He pressed her up against the wall of the archway, tucking her into a space barely broader than she; her leg pinned between his waist and the glass helped to keep her in place. Through blind fumbling and sheer luck, he managed to juggle her weight while fitting himself into the cradle of her thighs; the skirt billowed up between them, so much of a nuisance that he thought about putting her back on her feet and whirling her around instead. The heat of her mouth made up his mind for him as she kissed him again. He pressed his erection against her, and she mumbled his name against his lips, barely coherent as he nudged her skimpy lace underthings to the side

DG gasped as he slid inside her, his penetration shallow and the pressure absolutely unbearable from the very first moment. She quivered in his arms and her kiss faltered against his; her head fell to the side and he kissed her neck lightly as he thrust gently upward into her. One of her slippers hit the floor as she tilted her hips toward him and he sank deeper. A groan escaped his mouth as he hitched her legs up higher onto his waist, beginning to press into her in earnest.

The cold, empty room around them melted away, and time lost its grip on them as he moved her. She kissed him again and again, her eyes opened to the fevered pitch he threw them into, locked onto his gaze. Every expression that flit across her face, he saw. Every heavy breath that blew past his lips, she heard. Whatever vows they would say later before witnesses would come second only to this, always second to the power of her eyes boring into his as he claimed her body and she claimed his soul.

His arms began to ache as he pressed her harder into the archway; she whimpered and gasped her way through her orgasm. He followed moments after, huffing deeply into her hair as hot white waves threatened to sweep his legs right out from under him. Her legs were clutched so tightly about his waist that he had to pry her off to put her on her own feet, and they helped to smooth each other's clothing before falling into a heap against the window, curled up into each other as their heart rates slowed.

"That ease your mind a little?" he asked, his face resting in her tumbled hair.

DG nodded. "Yes," she said, and sounded it. "Still don't want to go back to my own bed, though."

Cain chuckled lightly, and kissed her forehead, brushing her bangs out of the way to do so. "Once we get back into the city, you'll be in my bed, don't fret on it. _Our_ bed, that sound decent to you?"

She grinned up at him. "Very decent. Thanks, Tin Man."

"I didn't do anything," he said, quirking a curious brow at her.

She sighed, and buried her face in his shoulder again. "Yes, you did, and I love you for it."

Cain couldn't help but smile.


	44. Chapter Forty Four

**Chapter Forty Four**

Somewhere under all the files, there was a desk. Really, he'd seen it... once.

Cain shuffled through the chaos, wondering how he'd ended up de facto head of palace security. His one and only concern was DG, and he was certain that somewhere along the way, he'd stressed that stipulation. Why his desk was covered with the security logs from the main gate, he didn't know.

Part of him wanted to pass it all off to Ambrose, who would see it set right, but Cain knew that in all likelihood, it would be passed off again and again until it was back on his desk. Part of him wanted to just walk away from it – and a part of him was curious as to what had gone on during his time out of the city.

So, he left it; it would keep until he had time for it.

He hadn't yet gotten a chance to get used to his room at Alta Torretta. Taking up residence at the palace had occurred less than a week before DG had dragged him down the Old Road; tonight was his first night back since. He didn't expect that he'd be spending more than his sleeping hours here. Even then, once DG returned to Central, that situation would change.

There was a knock at his door; he ignored it. The only people that knew he'd returned to Central City were the guards at the gate, a few members of the staff on this floor, and Ambrose; the latter would not knock so brokenly, and so Wyatt didn't even bother. The knocking soon ceased, only to be picked up again moments later, harder and more insistent.

"Open up, Tin Man," said his son's voice from the other side of the door. "I know you're in there." The knob was tried, and found locked, and so the third round of knocking began.

"A little spry for this late, ain't ya?" Wyatt asked as he unlocked and opened the door.

Jeb was smiling. "Just glad to be back," he replied. "Wanted to stop in and see you before I hit the sack." He entered the room and immediately took a seat at his father's desk, swivelling around in the creaky old wooden chair to face his father, who stood chuckling by the door.

Cain had no idea where his son's energy came from, but he didn't envy it. He was more than satisfied with his own semi-relaxed state. His body still hadn't caught up to his mind in terms of alertness after the gruelling weeks he'd spent on the road with DG; the next two days promised little in the way of down time. His sheets, as strange and new as they would be, were beginning to look mighty tempting.

"You happy to get a break from babysitting DG?" Jeb asked as Cain gave up on the desk and sat down on the sofa, his legs sprawled out before him.

"Glad for a lot of things now, but that isn't one of them," Cain said quite seriously, causing Jeb to pause and ponder over his father's tone.

"Everything okay?" Jeb finally worked up the nerve to ask. He raised an eyebrow at his father, and Cain was taken aback by just how much his boy resembled Adora. It would sneak up on him every now and again, and at that moment, it hit him with a force that near took his breath away. It didn't make it any more difficult to say what he had to, but somehow it became increasingly important that he receive his son's blessing to marry DG.

"Fine as could be expected," Cain said, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees.

Jeb sat up straighter in his chair. "But..." The word was long and drawn out, as his son waited for the other shoe to drop. Cain tried to keep the smile off his face as he surveyed the boy – no, man, in body as well as in mind – sitting across from him, suddenly anxious. Jeb gave him an unassuming grin.

"But nothin'," Cain said easily, enjoying watching his son fidget with impatience.

"I'll find out eventually."

"I reckon you will, but you won't have to wait that long. I want you to be the first one to know that I intend to marry DG."

Jeb rolled his eyes and flopped back in the chair with an air of disappointment. "Is that all? I was aware of that beforehand, you know."

"Within the next week."

That got Jeb's interest back. "You're eloping?"

"I'd prefer to call it doin' things the quiet way."

His son's grin was back, wider and brighter than he'd seen it in a long while, reminding him of the boy that had been. Jeb nodded silently, mulling over the news in his own mind, and he seemed to be overall pleased with the outcome of his thoughts.

"You're gonna need a witness," Jeb said finally.

While Cain tried not to show his surprise, it was evident to his son, who grinned even wider – if that was at all possible. "Well, Son," Cain said slowly, "I'd appreciate that. Don't think it'd seem right without you there."

"Did you really think that you were gonna slip this one by me? Come on, Father," he said, and stood up from his chair; the springs underneath groaned. "You must give me a little more credit than that."

Cain climbed to his feet, and shook the hand his son offered before pulling him into an embrace. When they'd separated, each was smiling at the other, gestures that were mirrored, though Jeb's held the hint of his mother, which caused Cain both sadness and pleasure, a mixture of emotion that left him feeling oddly whole.

The two visited for more than an hour, Cain recounting the visit to the Reader of the Realms, and the plan to return there before the end of the week, and Jeb giving a more personalized account of what had occurred around him during his time under the Lady Catt. By the time Jeb left his quarters and disappeared into the palace for his own rooms, Cain was feeling something akin to elation, which wasn't something he was used to. As he climbed into bed, trying to come to grips with his guilt over his own emotions, he realized that someday soon, there might not be a reason to be discomfited over his own happiness.

An annual before – only an annual? – he'd been released from his own tin version of hell, so blinded by his own pain that he'd never once stopped to realize that bigger things were happening around him until he was so caught up in it that he'd never get out. DG had helped to pull him out of that – and if it weren't for her, he never would have found his son or put his wife's memory to rest properly. Among the hundred things DG was responsible for in the country, its misery and its rebirth into glory, among the thousands of lives she'd saved and restored, she'd given him a second chance. He had repaid her in the only way he knew how, by helping her and protecting her and trying his damnedest to save her right back, over and over and over again.

Seemed to him that the time for saving was finally over.

* * *

***

* * *

When Jeb arrived at Azkadellia's rooms the next day, the overnight guard greeted him with no more than a tired nod before trudging off-duty. He took a moment outside the double doors, waiting and listening until he heard the unmistakable sounds of the maids moving around the outer-chamber of the Queen's suite.

Knowing he was disturbing nothing and no one, Jeb let himself into the massive sitting room, where three maids busied themselves tidying a space that Her Majesty barely used. The women stopped talking amongst themselves when he entered, and finished their chores quietly, leaving without making eye contact. As he learned later, rumours had circulated around Alta Torretta of his sudden departure and subsequent death at the hands of the evil in the Southeast.

Once he was alone, Jeb went to the bedroom door and tapped on it, a special series of short raps that he didn't wait for a reply to; letting himself in, he slipped through and shut the door behind him. He was locking it when she spoke up from behind him.

"I was beginning to think I might have to send out a search party for you," Azkadellia said smoothly from her vanity. Whatever she'd been doing to herself, she looked radiant now; she went through the motions of putting everything away in its proper place, not bothering to look up at him once as he crossed the room and came to stand behind her. She watched him in the mirror, a tiny smile curving its way across her lips until it overtook her in a brilliant show of teeth.

Jeb placed his hands on her shoulders, a delicate touch without much weight. Her smile was short-lived, fading to a mere shadow of what was. Soon, she was serious again, the mask of Her Majesty as firmly in place as he'd ever seen it. Though he'd missed the first few weeks of her official reign, he knew the strength inside of her, what she drew on from the past and what she'd learned from her sister. The Sorceress had enslaved the country; Azkadellia would rule it.

"Everything is settled, then?" she asked, as conversationally as such a loaded topic could be presented. She stood and brushed off the front of her gown, a pale green affair that made her skin glow.

Jeb went to stuff his hands in his pockets, a habit well-fed during his time in the Black Forest, only to realize that his uniform wouldn't allow it. She reached down onto the vanity to retrieve a tiny pair of emerald studs for her ears.

"As settled as it's gonna get, I think," he said. "I doubt you'll have Andrus out of your hair for a while yet, though."

Azkadellia threw him a small smile. "I don't mind conferencing with the general."

"Maybe that's because he _likes_ you."

Az shook her head. "No, he answers to me. That and liking me are two completely different things."

Jeb grinned, seeing his opportunity to slip in through her defences. "Well, I like you, but can't say that I'll answer to you," he said cheekily, applying just enough charm to catch her attention. By the time she realized what he was up to, he already had her smiling comfortably. "That is, unless you decide to start giving orders, then I suppose I'll have to answer, won't I?"

Azkadellia laughed at his playful sentence, dripping with innuendo. "You don't waste any time, do you?"

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to disappoint me anyway," he said. His shift that day would be split, and was with her through the morning and most of the afternoon; he'd seen the schedule she was expected to keep, and cringed at the thought of following her through council meetings and meaningless court affairs. His evening would be spent with a few of the senior guards, and the specialized training that was required for him to work as a part of the Queen's guard. Somewhere in all of this, he needed to grab a few winks and speak more with his father before returning to her rooms.

The frenetic pace of life in Central City should have been daunting, should have suffocated him, but he didn't mind it... he caught sight of Azkadellia watching him, and threw her an easy smile. No, oddly enough, he didn't mind it at all. At least, that's what he was telling himself after two hours of standing in one place in the throne room while she held audience. By the time his relief was showing up, looking well-rested and primly pressed in his palace uniform, he was done reminding himself that he didn't mind Central City and had begun to tell himself that he was there because he wanted to be.

His training session turned out to be a bit of a joke. He knew the layout of the Queen's residence, better for all the time he and Azkadellia had spent sneaking about the palace. He knew which passageways were used by the staff, and every single entry point. He even managed to fake a bit of mild surprise when the hidden door behind the mirrors in the grand entrance hall was revealed. At most, he was able to keep himself from yawning through the entirety of the walk-through, and that he considered something.

Jeb even managed to catch an hour's sleep on the couch in his father's room. Where the man himself was, Jeb had no idea, but he found comfort in occupying a space that belonged to Wyatt Cain; and, the couch was better than his own to boot. The quiet and rest more than made up for the tumult of the past few days, and he hoped to find a bit more of this peace of mind he was certainly lacking.

By the time he was up and rushing to Az's chambers, he was what most people would consider late. He found Azkadellia waiting for him, and she looked as if she'd been at it for quite a while. Instead of frowning at him as he often remembered her doing, as he gave her a cautionary grin of his own just in case, her brow was knitted together with worry and her eyes were as he hadn't seen them in a very long time. Sorrowful, dark, and grown still with the weight she carried inside.

Immediately, he was on his guard. "What's happened?" he asked. His mind whirled into sharp focus, quickly going over the worst of possibilities. Witches and Longcoats and Outlanders all came to the forefront, but none seemed to warrant the hurt in her eyes.

She shook her head. "Nothing's happened."

He deflated a little, rocking back on his heels. She sat in a chair near the massive frosted-glass window, her hands folded in her lap. She was serene, a quality that reminded him of the old Queen. He sat in the chair opposite her, dragging it forward so that his trouser-clad knees brushed against her silken-covered ones.

"Why would you think something has happened?" she asked him.

Jeb shrugged. "You've got a look."

She raised an elegant eyebrow. "What kind of look?"

He thought for a moment. "Like you went and got your heart broke while I was away."

Her eyebrow fell, and she sighed. Her shoulders sank. "I should work more on my formal presentation," she muttered. "I read as openly as a book, don't I?"

"You can't fool me, Az."

"I know."

The seconds began to melt between them, pronounced deafeningly by the clock ticking away on the mantelpiece. She studied her hands in her lap, so he took a moment to absorb his surroundings, the royal residence in which she now belonged. She seemed small here, diminished; she was safest here where she came to rest her head, and it was easy to forget how tall and how assertive she could make herself.

"It didn't break my heart, you know," she said quietly, almost as if speaking to no one but herself. "You might almost think that it would, but... not really."

He was so thrown off by her cryptic nature that he didn't get a word in edgewise before she started again. She spoke for a long time, her voice rising and falling, her hands twisting in her lap and then becoming still, her head shaking with her long dark tresses shifting endlessly on her shoulders. At one point he reached out to take her hand in his, and felt her shaking only slightly, the tremors in her voice were indeed larger.

"Why didn't you bring me back?" he asked finally, forcing the words past the dryness in his mouth.

She frowned disapprovingly at him. "Please, I have more respect for your position than that."

"You must have wanted me here... didn't you?" _Didn't she?_ He couldn't rightly answer that himself. She was constantly knocking out the ground from underneath of him, and he was too busy waiting for her to upturn things on him again that he didn't bother to right himself again. He didn't expect he was supposed to feel anything but off-kilter. _A baby. _It was an odd, empty sensation, to discover you'd lost something you didn't know you'd had to begin with. He couldn't say that he liked it, not one bit.

"Of course I did, very much." Her voice cracked near the end of her admission, a sure sign she was telling the truth.

"You should have summoned me back, then."

She laughed, a hollow and empty sound. "By the sound of things, your presence in the Southeast was crucial. DG couldn't have succeeded, let alone survived, without you." He looked at her, hard and skeptical, and she softened slightly. "I can weather my own storms, thank you, Jeb. I have my dignity."

"This isn't about your damn dignity!"

She flinched slightly. "I can't change what's happened. I'm sorry for dropping this on you." She looked at him with pity, as if he were the creature that needed reassurance. Wasn't he supposed to be patting _her_ back, whispering reassurances to _her_? He gave his head a hard shake to clear it, and squeezed his grip on her now steady hand.

"Don't apologize," he said firmly. "So... where do we go from here?"

"To bed," she said resignedly. He gave her an inquiring look, and she gave him a smile like a wisp of smoke, slowly fading itself out of existence. "Life has gone on, and will go on." When he still wasn't satisfied with her answer, and his mouth began to turn down into a frown, she sighed. "If I dwell on the past, there's no telling how far back I'll let myself fall. I can't. I _can't_." Her voice cracked, showing her vulnerability through the husky fissures in her tone. It was the closest to pure emotion he'd seen her, and now for the life of him he couldn't remember why he'd wanted to see it. It was heartbreaking.

She readied herself for bed, moving silently, barely touching the floor or leaving an imprint on anything in the room. When she was gone, it was if she hadn't really been there. He watched her while leaning against the door-frame separating the bedroom and sitting room, uncomfortable now in her new suite and unsure of where to settle himself. So, he stood and waited.

She climbed into a bed of gossamer threaded sheets, anxiously smoothing out the wrinkles around her. With half a smile, he went to the bed and kicked off his boots, climbed up beside her on top of the blankets and let her settle back against his chest. He felt the faintest ripple of her magic breeze warmly past him as the lights went out.

He closed his eyes as he buried his face in her hair. He'd held her like this through so many nights, unknown to the whole of the world. She was no weeping tree, shy and sorrowful in her beauty. She was only human, more cracked and flawed than most, aged by more than just time and experience; and still, she was so new. Still she baulked at the endless possibilities of her freedom.

"Do you want a baby?" he asked her, his lips tickled by her hair, his words muffled against her neck. He wasn't any good at this, was scared and fumbling blind; his only comfort was that deep down, under the mask, so was she.

"It's expected one day for me to have a daughter," she said; that wasn't what he'd meant, and he made to point it out to her, lifting his head away from hers, but she continued speaking, and he knew better than to interrupt her. "I don't know if my magic will ever allow it."

He didn't know what to make of that, and told her so. She sighed.

"It doesn't matter. Really, it doesn't."

"Az – "

"_Really._"

He pressed his lips together, said nothing more. He let her drop it; he didn't need to be banished out to the sitting room, or worse, the hallway. He'd prod her another day, charm his way through the smoky layers of her mask. He could wait her out.

* * *

***

* * *

Two days later saw DG arrive in Central City. The sight of the bronzed towers glinting in the light of the suns made her heart ache, Alta Toretta's emerald-glass rooftop drawing her eyes home, but by the time the car had driven through the city gates, the gloom had settled and the air had closed in. She never was more conscious of the Outer Zone than when entering Central City. The true heart.

She sat back in her seat with a sigh as the car began the circuitous route to the palace, wondering how long it would take before someone found her something useful to do to alleviate her boredom. She thought about where she could hide from said persons, and her mind drifted to the rooftop arboretum, the glass dome that had winked at her in the sunslight – it brought to mind the old man, Jowan.

Something uneasy settled in her stomach as she thought about the caretaker who had proved instrumental in what had happened to her in the past year. Nothing more than an old gardener, an escaped slave – one watching every move she made, whispering filtered and biased information back to the Commander. Buying her time, covering her tracks.

Thoughts about the slaves of the Commander followed her like a black cloud all the way to the palace. She was out of the car before the driver could scurry around to open the door for her. She was disappointed to see no one waiting for her, but halfway up the steps, just as the guards were greeting her with much formal bumbling, Raw and Cain came out of the huge doors and met her on the stone landing.

"How was the drive?" Cain asked, taking her bag from her. Before she could even begin to protest, his eyes cut toward her. Wyatt had his serious face on, and her curiosity began to itch remarkably quickly as she let Cain usher both herself and Raw into the atrium.

"Bumpy as hell," she said, feeling more than a little hurried as she and her bag were whisked across the marble floor toward the lift; that didn't stop more than half-a-dozen strangers from wishing her 'Good afternoon, Princess,' from one end of the hall to the other. Her eyes were wide by the time she was escorted into the lift, and then narrowed in suspicion by the time the doors had closed.

"What's going on?" she drawled slowly, as Cain kept his back to her and Raw smirked at the Tin Man's stiff shoulders. She could see Cain's face in the mirrored doors, expressionless; he made no indication that he knew she was staring, but he knew. The look on his face, void of even boredom or annoyance, was clearly for her un-benefit.

"Sister wants to see DG," Raw said; still Cain's face read nothing. DG had no qualms over staring at Cain in the mirror; if anything, it would make him crack faster, even just to snap at her. Damn... the man could be sucked into a travel storm and not blink an eye.

"Where is she?" she asked Raw.

"With Ambrose in her study," Cain said, catching her eyes in the mirror. No, it wasn't a loaded, meaningful glare at all. "She wants to make arrangements for your next jaunt South."

DG's lips curled into a distasteful frown, but she kept her opinions to herself. When they arrived at Az's residence, Raw stayed in the lift, smiling his fanged smile and shaking his head at Cain's brusqueness as the Tin Man all but dragged DG by the arm out into the mirrored entrance hall. The waning afternoon sunslight cast the massive room in a soft orange glow.

She gently pried herself from Wyatt's grasp, and his shoulders seemed to drop a bit when he realized how tightly he'd been holding her. "You going to be ready to hit the bricks tomorrow, Tin Man?" she asked, trying on her best teasing smile, wanting to pull him away of whatever had him wound so tight.

"Frankly, I can't wait to get out of the city," he said heavily.

She smoothed her hands over his shirt; his deep navy vest was hanging open, and his shirt-sleeves were rolled to his elbows. He looked like he'd put in long hours since he'd last seen his sheets, but he'd dropped everything in the middle of his day to meet her when she arrived, and escort her to her sister.

"You and me still got business to take care of tonight," he said, the edge in his voice softening as he reached up to tuck her loose hair behind her ear. "So don't go signin' yourself away to Azkadellia."

She smiled. "I won't. Is that what has you so bothered?"

Cain frowned at her, and for a moment it seemed like that was all the answer she was going to get when finally he shook his head. "No, that ain't why," he said, and took her lightly by the elbow, leading her away from the guards in the hall. Down one impressive hallway after another until they were so out of the way that even she wasn't exactly sure she knew where she was.

"Now you really have to tell me," she said, laughing haltingly as nervousness caught up with her.

"Your sister... I want you to tell me how she seems to you," he said; he ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he carefully chose his next words. A skeptical line formed itself on her lips; of all things, she wouldn't have expected Azkadellia to have Cain so vexed.

"Is she okay?" DG asked. From what little time she'd spent with her sister after the confrontation with the witch in the Southeast, DG had only assumed that her sister was, for lack of a better term, _fine_; though she was sad, her sister had always been sad.

"Fine, so far as I know," Cain said, echoing her very thoughts and piquing her interest all the more. When she raised an eyebrow at him in silent question, he let loose a long breath, and he glanced over her shoulder before answering. "It's nothin', your sister is gonna be happy to see you."

She was about to argue, tell him he wasn't allowed to drop the subject like that when he interrupted her barely-begun tirade. "Just tell me if she's _already_ happy, would you?"

Before she had the chance to ask what _that_ was supposed to mean, he led her back the way they'd come. Azkadellia's study was located near the rear of the floor, where all the windows looked out over Central City Square. Dark was steadily thickening in the world outside the palace walls, but her sister's study was brightly lit. Cain handed her the bag containing the book, then leaned in to give her the tiniest peck on the cheek as they parted; he growled out a warning when Ambrose muttered _"I saw that," _quietly from the sofa near the door. Azkadellia was nowhere to be seen.

Once Cain was gone, DG flopped down on the sofa beside Ambrose, tossing the pack to the floor. She kept her eyes averted from whatever papers were in his hand. Leaning her head back, she watched as he flipped through the small stack, extracted one paper, and handed it to her. She took it, realizing with disappointment that it was a red 'Wanted' poster. The date on it was yesterday's, a new issue for Zero's arrest.

She said nothing; it was without fail the one thing that could not be discussed. But a new reward would mean that he hadn't been rounded up among the Longcoats that had come out of the forest, imprisoned and under her protection – officially.

Azkadellia came into the study then, and DG hurriedly handed the poster back to Ambrose; he stuffed it back into the pile and out of sight.

DG caught a glimpse of a guard taking stance outside the door as it closed once again. DG and Ambrose both stood – Ambrose out of respect, DG to go to her sister and embrace her. Azkadellia's smile reached all the way to her eyes, sparkling darkly. There was an inward sigh of relief that rushed through DG as she realized her sister was all right – and just as Cain had predicted, happy.

"Az, you and me need to have words over the state of the roads," DG said with a laugh, uncomfortable under her sister's searching eyes. Azkadellia only grinned brighter, her eyes shifting constantly over DG's face as she drank in every inch of pale flesh, every eyelash, every freckle. "Is something wrong?" DG finally asked, a nervous chuckle tumbling out of her.

"No," Az said, and her smile faded a bit, but the glow in her cheeks remained. "Everything is fine."

The pretext of ensuring travel arrangements and a protection detail turned out to be nothing more than Azkadellia's excuse to get her sister all to herself for a few uninterrupted minutes during her busy afternoon. DG was more than happy to lounge on one of the many sofas, her head in her sister's lap while Az ran her fingers absently through DG's long, tangled hair.

"You haven't been having any more dreams?" Azkadellia asked, keeping her voice low.

DG shook her head, and glanced up at her sister. "None that need telling; some that _definitely_ don't need telling." She grinned mischievously, and went back to studying the scroll-work that wound around the ceiling like ivory-wrought vines. There seemed to be no meaning or design to the meandering tendrils.

Azkadellia gave her sister a patronizing smile. "Nothing else from the Gale? Messages or memories?"

DG shook her head; she'd been through all this with her mother, and then with her father. No doubt Cain would eventually bring it up. "Nope. No more crazy dreams about talking scarecrows, or dead girls. I am completely unreceptive to the supernatural."

Az cocked an eyebrow, letting DG settle back. Everything seemed so peaceful, the sort of peace that you can never expect to last. Lucky for DG, she had no illusions about this afternoon spun from spider-silk, fragile and impermanent. There was no peace, not really; the book in her bag was a burden that she'd be glad to pass on, and the Emerald waited for her somewhere within the walls of the palace, calling to her that her tasks were not yet complete. She remembered something from the Other Side, a poem about quiet and peace and miles to go...

DG let her eyes slip closed. There was nothing that could spoil this moment of safety in her sister's arms.

* * *

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. It's been pretty stressful around here, plus this chapter had a lot of draining emotional content. Anyone ready to meet the Reader again? I know I sure am. (Also, sorry goflo, but I'm sure you skipped it anyway. *wink*)_


	45. Chapter Forty Five

**Chapter Forty Five**

In the end, it was quick and painless. No ceremony, no expectation, no drawing out of rituals. It was a few words, an exchange, a signature or two, a smile and a handshake and then it was done.

DG didn't think she'd ever been happier.

Hours later, after they'd left parlour of the young cleric who'd been brave enough to take on their challenge, DG and her new husband left Central City. There was no one to see them off, as they'd parted company with Jeb on the stoop of the cleric's small house. Quiet as thieves in the night, they went.

They left on foot. It was dark, and there were very few people on the road. Cain tipped his hat at those they did pass, DG giving the smallest nod under her concealing hood. The worn old rucksack containing the book, wrapped in velvet, and the few belongings they'd brought with them was slung over Cain's left shoulder; his right arm was constantly moving, never settling on her shoulder or back but touching her all over protectively.

The night sky was completely clear, and the stars winked down at her, conspirators in her plan. Those expecting to wake her the next day would be sorely surprised. She didn't like leaving Azkadellia without word, but their departure had been planned for late the next morning anyway. Sneaking out of the city half-a-day early wasn't harming anything.

"You're glowin' brighter than the moons," Cain commented, the slices of shadow cast by the reaching branches above them creeping over his face, revealing small parts of him, the bridge of his nose, his chin, blue eyes trained on her and only her.

She couldn't think of any smart-assed remark to throw back at him, nor any flirtatious invitation to make him blush, so she just nodded; though she couldn't see herself, he was more than likely right. He wasn't one to exaggerate, nor one to dole out compliments.

A stone marker on the side of the Old Road pointed to a sleepy little village, the road leading away no more than a set of wagon tracks that had beaten back the brush over the annuals. After this, traffic on the Brick Route seemed to stop all together; no travellers, cyclists, or riders did they meet. The quiet stretched on between them, though the whisper of the wind through the trees and the scrape of their boots on the bricks accompanied them. She liked travelling by night, there was no sense of rushing and no suns to mark the passage of time.

Ten minutes after they'd passed the village, they reached their destination of sorts – an old stable where the lanterns still burned bright for them. Their two mounts were saddled and waiting; if Juniper were in any way sore about being left for so long, she gave no indication as she allowed DG to pull herself up into the saddle. Cain was right beside her, hands going through the motions of steadying her, though he never let his hands brush her.

"So," he asked, leaning in close and running a hand up her thigh. "How does being Mrs. Cain feel to you?"

She smiled at him. "I don't know yet. It feels the same as being DG, I think. It's kind of intimidating if I think about it too much."

He raised his scarred eyebrow, jaw tightening. "Why's that?"

"These are some pretty big shoes to fill," she said, wondering if it was right to tell him the truth at all. She didn't want to insult him by mentioning Adora, or his mother who'd raised him, though he spoke of her less than he did of his deceased wife.

Cain's expression remained unchanged as he looked up at her; it was a long, torturous minute before the smallest smile broke out over his lips, ghosting over his face and disappearing like the stars behind the clouds. A moment later he was his stoic, unchanging self; he gave her leg another firm rub before paying the stable-master and mounting his own horse.

The cold spell that had gripped the O.Z. seemed finally to be breaking, but night air came back with a vengeance that was easily forgotten during the day, under the suns. They stuck to the Old Road, never leaving the bricks that stretched out the way for them. Cain pressed them through the Fields of the Papay, where the skies gazed down at them through the endless sea of reaching branches. The moons set, and it was an hour or so before that first grey light of dawn when they finally came out of the fields, and DG could breathe a sigh of relief. She wondered if they'd passed _her_ tree, though now among the thriving field it would be impossible to tell.

The birds in the trees picked up singing not long after they'd left the fields, and their shrill, warbling songs grew louder as the sky lightened one shade of blue at a time. Not long after, she could hear the deafening rush of the river that cut its way through the great gap. Off the road, they picked their way along the northern ridge, and made camp far away from the road.

Just as had been done so many times before, Cain settled them safely down on a comfortable slope amidst the thick, gnarled roots that had slowly overtaken the forest floor over the centuries; the sleeping giants sheltered them, blocked out the harshest light of the suns that would come later in the day. This place was ancient, and as she lay down on the hard earth and breathed in the damp air of the a late summer stolen by bitter cold, she was almost certain she could detect the sharp, sweet scent of apples.

Wyatt tucked her in closer, kissed her temple before resting back with an arm angled behind his head. "I owe you a proper wedding night," he mumbled, his voice growing gravelly as he began to relax. "Don't go forgettin' it."

"Why? This is nice," she said, staring into the early morning twilight, weak shafts of light breaking through to colour patches of her skin a paler white. "Doesn't ever feel right if we're not going somewhere."

He smirked, so she poked his side, causing him to jerk outright. While not outright ticklish, she'd discovered his ribs were sensitive enough to be a weakness. He grumbled something about quitting her fidgeting and going to sleep.

The steady course of the river, crashing endlessly against the jagged rocks of the gap lulled her into contented sleep sometime during the blue hour. She dreamed of Kansas; she was alone in the middle of an empty meadow, where the wind through the tall grass sounded so much like the rush of the river. She awoke feeling curiously empty, feeling acutely the homesickness she'd all but forgotten.

DG sat up and stretched; Cain was nowhere in sight. He'd already saddled the horses, and they waited with their quiet, diligent patience. She rolled up the blankets, brushed them off, packed them. She returned to sit with her back against a tree, watching the clear blue sky that broke open above her.

It wasn't long before she saw him coming up the hill toward the ridge, his head down as he walked.

"Are you gonna tell me what was bugging you yesterday?" she called out over the roar of the river.

Cain stopped in his tracks near the periphery of the camp-site, half hiding behind the horses. She watched as he straightened his shoulders and his mouth formed a grim line; he stayed near the horses, re-checking the blankets she'd just packed. She rolled her eyes and got to her feet.

"Went lookin' for Jeb a few nights ago," he said, forcing the words past the clench of his jaw. "Couldn't find him."

DG shrugged her shoulders. "That doesn't –"

Cain interrupted her, refusing to look up as he buckled the saddle bag that hadn't needed to be unbuckled in the first place. "It got me to thinkin'. He was on duty; half past midnight or not, he ain't leavin' his post. Unless." He didn't trail off, he stated it as if the 'unless' were the whole fact, laid out bare for her to see. She didn't understand, didn't want to let on that he'd confused her, but she'd never been any good at hiding what she felt when it came to him.

"Unless," he said for her benefit, slowly enough that she knew he didn't like saying it at all, "he's been gettin' his meat where he gets his bread."

DG's eyebrows knit together. "You mean he's seeing someone in the palace?"

Wyatt nodded solemnly.

"Someone on the staff?"

Mutely, he shook his head.

"At court?"

A pained look crossed his features. "Someone a little closer to home, Darlin'."

DG stood silently as his eyes met hers; she didn't understand why it would be so difficult for Cain to speak of his son courting someone in the palace until... until she remembered what he'd said to her the day before.

"_Your sister is gonna be happy to see you... just tell me if she's _already_ happy."_

DG's jaw slackened as the possibility settled around her, descending so rapidly that she was sure the ground shook; how had she not realized? Not to sound too much like her mother, but oh Great Gale! She sat down, and leaned back against the tree again, so dazed that she wasn't sure she could have said the right words, even if she'd found them. _Great Gale... _

Once she knew the truth, she couldn't unknow it; she couldn't stop seeing in her mind what she'd never seen before... had it really been there all along? They say that all things are obvious in hindsight, and she was finding that truer than she liked to admit.

It took him a good long couple of minutes, but Cain eventually came to stand over her, reaching out a hand to help her up. She just stared up at him.

"You okay?"

"I... don't know," she said, and stood without his assistance. She brushed off her jeans with her gloved hands, and then covered her face, took a deep breath. "You know what this means?"

"Honestly, Deeg, I'd rather not work that one out."

She smiled, which eventually broke into a laugh. Acceptance washed over her and took all the stiffness out of her bones, our of her thought processes. She'd wrap her head around this, she always managed to accept whatever this land tried to throw at her. There was plenty of time to focus on it later...

* * *

***

* * *

The first hour or so in the Realm of the Unwanted was always a shock on the senses. The streets were packed with unwanted; people called and jeered, bought and sold, gave and gambled on every narrow street. Somewhere, someone was shouting in pain, and another man screamed about being cheated.

Her head turning from side to side, DG tried to take it all in. This clogged existence was so foreign to her, but the more she saw of the Realm, the more fascinated with the unwanted she became. A headcase stumbled past them, looking mildly bemused and not at all bothered by his defect. She wondered what happened to the brains of those who didn't have secret plans buried in their grey matter.

"Come on, Deeg," Cain said firmly when she tried to stop to talk to the man. He gave her hand a hard tug, and didn't let go as he pulled her away.

Closer to the pleasure districts, he found them a rented room in the rafters of a tavern that her own eyes had completely skipped over. Away from the noise and filth of the street, she changed into something a little more appropriate, a silk slip-dress that felt like she was sheathing her body in water; it hid her figure and swished about her as she walked.

Cain cocked an eyebrow at her as she came out from behind the screen.

"You had that in your pack and you married me in your blue jeans?"

She blushed. "What can I say? I've got my priorities."

He nodded toward her delicate dress. "I can see that."

She waited nervously while Cain washed and shaved in the small bathroom down the hall. She played with her hair while wandering from window to window. A fist-fight between two men turned into a brawl of a dozen unwanted, while a pair of lovers met in a shadowed alleyway. The nights here were wild and unrestrained.

Cain returned just as the lovers in the alley became indiscreet. Gladly, DG turned away to face him.

"You ready to hand that book over?" he asked her, nodding to the leather-bound picture book that lay on a small corner table, wrapped and bound in a square of deep red velvet. DG sighed an affirmation, keeping her eyes off the book, her fingers off the pages, her questions away from its perpetual temptation. She never considered that it might matter where the book ended up; even if it had, she wouldn't have had a choice. Retrieving the book for the woman who desired it was her price, the cost of her question, the starting point of her wild goose-chase of a quest. Her test... no one had ever said that she couldn't ask for help.

Outside the tavern, Cain quickly lost them in the crowd. Soon however, he'd taken her down a few side-streets and the swarm of bodies thinned out. The avenues became wider, lights burned behind shutters, and anyone out on the street gave the grim stranger and his prettily-dressed prize no more than a single glance. Women lounged in doorways, talking quietly and smoking cigarettes, watching the lazy trickle of traffic for those to whom they might boast their trade.

The slow transition from crammed wooden townhouses to larger buildings in a Victorian style reminded her they were nearing their destination; they passed detached houses with private gates, stone gardens and driveways. The only reminder that they were still underground was the thick growth of roots coming down out of the vaulted ceiling high over her head; the vastness of the Realm had her wondering just where they'd end up if they went topside.

They turned a corner and the last square opened up; the sculpted lovers of the fountain trapped forever in marble climax, gold coins glinting in the water at their feet. DG tried to stop and study them a little more closely this time – from an artist's standpoint of course – but Cain tugged her along, a little harder than necessary.

The house at the top-center of the square drew her eyes, a little fancier than the rest, a little showier. Everything was the same, the pillars carved with tiny ivy leaves, the doors that swung inward in welcome without the slightest touch, the wave of peace that washed over her; she reminded herself of the magic of the place and told herself not to be taken in. She wanted to steel herself for her meeting with the Reader, and if it weren't for the firm, guiding hand on the small of her back, she might not have managed. Cain wasn't fooled by charms or spells; magic made him wary, and his guard was heightened as the thick carpet under their feet absorbed their footsteps.

The young maid that waited to greet them dropped into a bow at the sight of DG; no pretence this time, the velvet package clutched in her arms belied her purpose. She was stuck between blushing and frowning while the girl babbled something about 'being expected'. The maid told Cain – drippingly apologetic, flaunting leg and smile all the while – that someone would be along shortly to show him to a room where he could wait.

"No, I'll wait right here," he said, unaffected by her for-him display.

Her black-laced eyes widened a bit and her routine faltered. "Sir, you can't –"

"Right here is fine."

DG hid a smirk by turning her head away from the maid. '_No_' probably wasn't a word heard a lot within these walls.

The girl eyed Cain with uncertainty, and then seemed to decide to take him seriously. She left him behind without another word, leading DG through an archway and deeper into the mansion. "Good luck," were the last words she heard from Cain before he all but disappeared.

The hallways passed in a blur of opulence and excess; carved white doors led to hidden places where desires lurked. The Reader's antechamber was empty, and the maid left DG to cross it alone. The door opened for her, the Reader standing in welcome on the threshold. She held out her arms in a warm gesture, though DG got the feeling she was only reaching out her itchy fingers for the book she coveted so.

Once the door to the Reader's parlour was closed, DG pulled the book from its wrapping and handed it over. At the very first glimpse of old leather binding, Cynthia's eyes shone with a light of their own, brighter than the old lamps that surrounded them.

"Well done, my girl, well done," Cynthia said appreciatively as she ran her fingers greedily over the cover. "The changeling had no qualms with relinquishing it?"

DG shook her head. "No, h- Tory promised me the book if I helped him kill the witch."

Cynthia smiled a nasty smile. "And what did he promise you if he was returned to his rightful self?" Her fingernails continued to stroke the cover, a light scraping that reached DG's ears in the stuffy stillness.

"Nothing. Tory never asked me for that."

Cynthia gave a quiet, distracted nod as she finally flipped the book open, ran those same red-nailed fingers down the pages... but then she snapped it shut, gave a self-satisfied nod, and discarded it on the first bare tabletop.

And that was all.

DG found herself disappointed with this anticlimactic reception, and unsure what to do with herself now that she'd fulfilled her purpose. She stood uncomfortably by the door and watched as Cynthia draped herself elegantly into the carved old chair in the center of the room, covered in dozens of delicately woven shawls and sheer scarves of all colours. It was the equivalent of a throne, and DG, after all she'd experienced through the answers this woman had given her, felt oddly reverent. Taking her cue, she perched uneasily on the simpler, unadorned chair opposite the Reader of the Realms.

"The blushing bride," the Reader began. DG's hands were twisting in her lap, and she caught hold her left hand with her right, fingering the newly added silver band. Across from her, Cynthia hovered her hands over the smooth crystal, placed on the middle of the round tabletop. Cynthia's hands moved constantly; the colourless mist within drifted toward her, as if the hands above held a magic that pulled their currents. "It's a pretty piece of tin, that's for certain," Cynthia said, a glimmer of teasing in her eye, "but I thought it was tradition to give a Gale an emerald."

A smile graced DG's pale pink lips. "Wyatt doesn't set much by other people's traditions," she said, "and he knows how I feel about emeralds."

Just as it had once before, the vapour within the crystal ball shifted, darkening and turning a lush green.

"Emerald," the Reader breathed, staring into the mist. The greenish glow on her face was haunting, and reminded DG too much of the day of the Eclipse, and the emerald pallor that had overtaken her sister's pale face on the platform. "You succeeded where others would have failed, Princess. You disguise your bullheadedness as courage; you follow your heart when all others would follow their brains."

DG didn't know what to say, chewed her lip to stop from blurting out ignorant questions.

"Still, the journey of the Emerald is not complete. Do not trust the promises and allowances of the stone-hearted. The Outlander may not watch you any longer, but he has not forgotten you. He grows impatient for that which his kin has endlessly sought."

"And after that?" DG pressed. "Peace?" It was an obtuse question, and one that had no place at this table or any other. There would never be the kind of peace that the country had once known. Cracked and flawed, the Outer Zone would always be viewed as vulnerable, the Gales weak.

Cynthia looked at her sympathetically. "I cannot tell you the fate of the country. When the threat of the Outlanders passes, there is no knowing when the next will take its place until it already has. Do you understand?" She barely paused before she waved her hand dismissively. "Of course you don't. It doesn't matter. I will watch, I always have, and the book will help. Goodness knows, perhaps next time someone might consult me before possession or invasion take place."

DG laughed, and Cynthia's face softened.

"The future safety and prosperity of the Zone rests squarely on the shoulders of the Gales. You don't need a crystal ball to tell you that. But this, Princess, this: the 'future' of the country now grows inside of you," Cynthia said, ignoring the painfully shocked look that overtook DG's face.

"I'm not –"

Cynthia smirked. "You are. Conceived under this very roof; imagine, a queen conceived here! It's quite the legacy you begin for her, Princess."

DG closed her eyes. She wasn't understanding. She stumbled on what Cynthia said, though she moved ever so fluidly forward. "You knew! You kept us here!" It was a weak defence, and she knew it. Even if the Reader had given her a quiet, private place, DG had still acted on her own impulses, sensibility spells or not. Cynthia was completely unconvinced of DG's logic, and only watched the princess with a wry, knowing smile.

With a sigh, DG skipped back. "You said queen," she pointed out lamely.

"Yes, she will inherit the throne."

DG shook her head. "Azkadellia –"

"Azkadellia will bear only sons. Once the taint of the Possession leaves her body, her Light will let go of its fierce defence of her. It will take annuals, but when the time comes, a son cannot succeed his mother, now matter how brave the father or benevolent the mother."

DG sat back, utterly stunned. One of her arms snaked unconsciously over her belly as she sorted through the bombardment of information she'd just received. She felt flooded, and already her certainties, the things she _knew_, were being washed away.

"Though your people will never forget, they will know happiness under your sister's rule," Cynthia went on, relentless and unforgiving. "She might even lighten up and partake in some of it herself. There is not a single person in this country that needs to stop punishing herself more than Azkadellia; your mother's self-exile and even your foolish selfless adventuring are nothing compared to the weight of Azkadellia's conscience."

The green mist within the glass continued to swirl. Tiny pinpricks of light, separate entities floating apart, trying to grab DG's attention with their winking and flickering. Like tiny fireflies trapped in fog, everything that ethereal emerald green. She wanted to reach out and touch the crystal, see if one of the green fireflies would be attracted to her fingertip, but she politely kept her hands to herself.

"You're speechless, Princess," Cynthia said slowly after too much time had passed.

"No," DG said, sitting up a little straighter in her chair. "Why have you told me all this? How can you know it? Do you see it in your crystal ball and that makes it true?"

"These are only my vague interpretations of what I've been seeing for a very long time, my dear," Cynthia said, a hard edge in her voice that made DG realize she'd said something insulting. "They are never known as truth until they have already come to pass. Your path, your choice."

"I don't see what that has to do with what's going on inside my body, or my sister's," DG said defensively. She felt like she'd been left in the wide open, unprotected against something in which she had no hope of shielding herself.

"It matters no longer," Cynthia said, pulling her hands away from the crystal. The colour drained from the mist, leaving a thin white fog that slowly evaporated. The crystal went dark. "That is, until the next hag comes along, looking for a pretty Gale face to hide behind. Guard your daughters well, Princess, against the things that call from the dark."

* * *

***

* * *

DG didn't remember the room in the rafters being so small, but when they returned and Cain had bolted the door securely, she could only turn in a circle and wonder where all the space had gone. Had it really been so _enclosed_ before? Had she been too keyed up about her impending visit with the Reader to pay it any mind?

A show of coin downstairs had ensured that the room would remain theirs until dawn. When the first streaks of unseen light blurred the dark horizon above, they would retrieve their horses from the stable at the edge of the Realm and return to Central City. There, they would remain trapped within the city walls while the kinks were ironed out of the journey into the West. She'd heard Ambrose mumbling the words _diplomatic nightmare_. She hoped it wasn't so.

Cain pulled a chair up to the window and propped his boots up on the sill. He hadn't asked her anything yet, and probably wouldn't. She'd come out of the Reader's parlour without the book, and that was good enough for him; anything else said was her matter. If she chose to divulge it, he'd listen readily; he wasn't about to pry when she wasn't offering up anything to begin with.

But by the time she'd changed out of her dress and sat down on the narrow cot in nothing but a slip, he still hadn't said a word. She took a moment to study his profile as he watched out the window. How different he was from the man who'd come out of the suit, except for the intensity of his blue eyes. His skin was darker now, weathered by the intervening annual spent out under the suns. In contrast, his hair was lighter. There was no perpetual frown ageing his face. At rest, his hands were relaxed, not stiff.

He seemed _content_, and she didn't want to disturb him.

Even so, what would she say if she did? _"You remember that night we spent in a brothel? Well, guess what, the fortune teller told me I'm pregnant. With a future queen nonetheless. Oh, and my sister is going to give birth to your grandsons. Catch all that? Okay. Goodnight!"_

Rolling her eyes at herself, DG put her face in her hands, trying not to laugh.

"You all right there, Darlin'?"

DG took a deep breath. She'd tell him later; though she wouldn't admit it, even to herself, she wanted this secret to herself a little longer, as selfish as that was. "I'm fine," she said, giving him a smile. "Just tired."

"Not too many hours left until dawn," he told her.

She shrugged. "You aren't tired?" She could see exhaustion etched into every inch of his face, but still she asked him this simple thing.

"Worn out is more like," he said. He was shaking his head as he removed his vest and belt, tossed them over the back of a chair. He sat down hard on the cot beside her, his sleeved arm warm as it brushed against her bare one; he bent over and removed his boots, and when he sat up, he found her staring at him.

He sighed. "She tell you when I'm dyin', DG?"

DG was taken aback by his blunt question. "No, why would you –"

"Then would ya quit starin' at me already?"

Her blue eyes widened. "Sorry."

Another sigh, more akin to a growl, escaped him. He ran a weary hand over his face. "Ain't no reason to be sorry."

Silence fell between them; after all that had been said and done in the past few weeks, DG thought she would welcome such quiet interludes, but this felt uncomfortable, and she didn't like it. She reached over and tugged his hand into her lap; he kept still as she turned his palm upright, tracing the deep cut lines and grazing her fingernails over the thick silver band she'd placed on his finger the night before. Their first full day as husband and wife had seen them steal away like thieves, had led them deep into the Realm of the Unwanted, and now to this tiny room above a dark tavern where most of the patrons were probably too drunk to remember their names, let alone where they'd left their pocketbooks.

Up in the rafters, the silence pressed down on her. She wondered if he felt it too, the weight of all unspoken.

She closed his hand into a fist, and then wrapped her own two small hands around it. Her pale, slender fingers couldn't hide the rough skin, his dry and cracked knuckles. _Tsk_-ing softly, she ran her fingers over his wrist and unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt. She shot him a glare she hoped would tell him to keep quiet before reaching for his other hand, which he willingly gave. She undid the second cuff, and then twisted to face him, working the small row of buttons down the center of his chest until the material parted, revealing more skin and scars.

"Deeg –" he began, but she cut him off by putting her hands on either side of his face and jerking him to the perfect angle so she could look him straight in the eye.

"You promised me a wedding night," she reminded him simply. His eyelids were at half-mast, and the thought that he was merely tolerating her attention flit through her brain. She cast him a meek smile, courage faltering every second as he looked at her, his fatigue-softened face doing nothing to dim the penetration of his gaze.

She couldn't wait. As seconds went by, a half minute or more gone and still he didn't speak, she tightened her resolve. Her hands had fallen to his shoulders at some point; she gathered up the material under her hands and pushed the shirt off his shoulders. Wyatt pulled his arms free, wrapping them around her and dragging her closer, but she had other plans. She wrestled her way free and stood before him.

"I love you," she told him, and meant it, had never meant anything so wholly in her life.

His face was blank as he replied. "Love you, too."

She ran her fingers through his short blonde hair; he stayed completely still underneath her exploring fingers, fighting off the shivers that came from the light grazing of her nails. The warmth of her hands traced to his jaw, and he turned his face into her touch, his cleanly shaven cheek sliding against the smoothness of her palm. His lips brushed against her wrist, and she fought to keep her eyes open, to stop herself from falling backward and allowing him to carry her away.

DG reached up and tugged at her slip; Cain's hands were there, pushing the material up her hips. His hands slid over her belly, and a tremble caused her breath to catch in her throat as his hands lingered on the soft flesh. Could he sense what the Reader had told her, that she carried his child? DG opened her mouth to babble some sort of nonsense when his hands continued upward and began to palm her breasts. With a sigh of relief, she pulled the slip over her head.

His lips sank to her skin, drawn by the warmth and scent of her. She could feel the shift as his strokes became bolder, when he grabbed instead of caressed, when he pulled instead of coaxed. She stood before him and teased him by being aloft when he wanted her as close as possible. His mouth left a moist trail between her breasts that chilled her; when she shivered, he hauled her into his lap and twisted to lay her down on the cot. She tried to sit up but a hand on her shoulder kept her down as he leaned over her and buried his lips where her neck sloped.

"Let me up," she managed to breathe out; his response was to bite down gently on her shoulder, and she moaned.

"You aren't movin' quick enough for me, Sweetheart," he told her, shifting his position to kneel between her legs. He pinned her hips with his.

"I was trying to seduce you," she persisted, squirming against him; it pressed his erection hard against her center, and she sucked in a breath as he groaned.

"Well, you managed, so sit still," he muttered, nudging her head to the side with his as he kissed her neck again. There was a moment of confused fumbling as he leaned his weight against her and then he was hooking her leg on his elbow to spread her wide open. While she'd writhed he'd unbuttoned his trousers – as he slid inside of her to the hilt, the shock caused her to gasp.

As if wanting to hear her breathy moan again, he snapped his hips against hers. DG bit her lip. She wanted to ask him if this was quick enough, as he began to move within her, his thrusts slow and sure and strong. He sat back on his knees, his big hands clutching her hips so he could watch himself sink into her. His steady concentration while he made love to her caused her head to spin; really, hadn't she been the one in control when this had all started? She couldn't remember. The only thing she truly knew was that she was spiralling dangerously close to the edge.

Wyatt closed his eyes and his head fell back; his grip tightened on her hips, leaving white fingerprints that would, in a day or so, turn into faint purple splotches, the damning evidence of his loss of control. His strokes sped up, and she began to feel the veil of mindlessness descending, and she couldn't fight it, even if she tried – which, by God, she wasn't about to. When she came, it swept over her so suddenly that she cried out in surprise; heat radiated from her very center outward, numbing her from head to toe and blocking out everything but for the driving force that had taken her there. Groaning as her warmth seized, Cain thrust deeper, giving himself over to her as her body quivered around and underneath of him. His hands fell away from her hips to the cot, holding his weight above her and resting his forehead on her shoulder as the pulsing of his release died away.

He pulled away from her and all but fell to the cot, dragging her closer and draping her half across his chest to keep her with him on the narrow bed. "The things you do to me," he near grumbled, running his fingers through the curls clinging damply to her temple.

"I didn't get to do anything to you," she said; the erratic beating of his heart was a tune she could sing to, if she'd had the energy to do anything more than mumble quietly into his chest. Her body slowly relaxing, the muscles of her abdomen twitched, over-sensitive. She could almost smile, but even that seemed beyond her in the haze that was speaking in tongues to her body, lulling her into security and sleep. "You didn't even take your pants off. Or your socks. Not very romantic," she chastised.

"Wasn't going for romantic," he grunted.

She laughed lazily. "I suppose the honeymoon in the Realm of the Unwanted shoulda tipped me off."

"I recall this bein' your idea from the very start."

They fell quiet then; it wasn't long at all before Cain was sleeping, his chest rising and falling rhythmically beneath her cheek. She didn't move for fear of waking him; with his arm locked around her waist, it would have been impossible to manage.

Sleep eluded her, though her body called out for it. She didn't know how to quell her roaming thoughts. The jumble of emotion inside of her was hard to pick through; she was unsure if she were happy or confused, relieved or worried or even scared. She'd been given the briefest glimpse of her future, the trials to come. It wasn't information she wanted to rely on, but she wanted to believe it just the same.

Her hand left Cain's chest. She reached down and swept her thumb over her belly.

_Daughter of Light._

* * *

_Author's Note: Two chapters left. I'm not one to ask for reviews, but... you know._


	46. Chapter Forty Six

_Author's Note: Sorry for the lapse in updating. Life kills the muse._

* * *

**Chapter Forty Six**

DG and Cain arrived in Central City to find that their secret had already been found out. Both Ambrose and Azkadellia were well aware of the clandestine ceremony, though Jeb swore up and down he hadn't been the one to let the cat out of the bag. The news spread fast and far enough once they'd passed though the city gates that a formal announcement to the press and public was being issued before DG had even made it to her suite.

Azkadellia was less than thrilled, though DG wanted to underplay it to save Cain the worry. In reality, her sister was both heartbroken and furious; it brought a pink glow to her cheeks as she paced. Behind the closed doors of her sister's suite, DG endured hours of questions and tears and more questions, with the occasional admonishment thrown in by Az for the sake of DG's soul-searing guilt.

DG left out the particulars under the constant scrutiny of Az's desire to know every single detail of her journey to the Realm. She did not offer to show her sister her memories through their magic, no, she didn't want to reveal too much. Not everything, anyway, even though Azkadellia was the one who'd sent her to the Reader in the first place. She could bear the burden of her ill-gotten knowledge better than Azkadellia could shoulder the hope of a bright future.

"Cynthia said she can't predict peace, but she sees happiness. That's a good thing," DG said, trying to encourage a smile out of her sister.

Az wasn't biting. "What else?"

"She thinks you need to lighten up."

There it was, her sister's rare smile.

"She also," DG added, "mentioned not putting too much faith in the Commander's patience. The Emerald can't wait, Az."

"It can," Az said with a certain amount of finality. "If he has eyes in Central City, he'll know that you're here and safe. Besides, you just got home." The smile on Az's face was genuine, and it made DG's heart hurt. "Let things die down a bit before you disappear again."

That, at least, was truth; DG's actions had stirred up the focus on her throughout the city. She wasn't going anywhere fast.

In the end, though the Queen was appeased of the slight against her, Azkadellia took longer to forgive the admissible betrayal. The days that followed saw life fall into a predictable routine. DG pressed that she wanted to be rid of the Emerald as soon as possible, but her sister always avoided the subject, going as far as to send DG on errands and excursions outside Alta Torretta that could sometimes last the day. While DG wasn't complaining about getting out into the city with Wyatt by her side, this putting off of the inevitable was beginning to creep under her skin.

"If we wait too long, winter is going to make the decision for us," Cain said to her a few days later. He'd waited until Azkadellia had informally accepted the marriage before moving his few belongings into DG's suite of rooms. The only time they two were together alone was at night, before bed.

She looked up, concerned. "How late is too late?"

"We'd want to be in and out before mid-November, and that's if the weather's on our side," he said. "Otherwise it's a long wait 'til April."

DG frowned, thinking of the Reader and her announcement of the forthcoming new arrival. It was still her secret and hers alone; the early warning had yet to show any physical proof. She wasn't telling anyone – not even Wyatt – until she had some sort of undeniable symptom. So she waited, and wondered, and worried. Even with her rough estimations, she knew that April would be cutting it close. With her sister's reluctance to let her leave...

"We might have to rob the treasury," DG said with a much put-upon sigh.

Cain raised an eyebrow. "You might wanna stop tryin' to push your sister's buttons. There's plenty of time for all of this, Darlin'."

DG envied Cain's patience; she was always in such a hurry to get things done that more often than not, she'd look around and find herself deeper than she'd first anticipated. She had more than just herself to think about now.

So she only nodded, and said nothing.

* * *

***

* * *

Cain wanted to talk to her. It wasn't looking particularly good. In fact, in light of the circumstances, the situation was looking very dire indeed.

The message had come from a page boy; stiff paper, sealed in crimson with the crest of the royal army. His aversion to communication transferred into words, and he revealed nothing more than a desire to speak with her when he returned to Central City.

Why all the fanfare? The wax, the boy, why?

DG brooded over the message for most of the morning, contemplating it from every angle, some innocent and some paranoid, some skeptical and some downright outlandish. Cain was out of the city, gone for days representing Her Majesty during peace talks between the divided factions of the Southern Guild. He was due to arrive in the evening, and she would have been waiting on the steps to greet him, whatever the stewards would tut at her about propriety. Now, she sat back on her heels and wondered why he suddenly needed to request an audience with her.

Hass, as Cain's replacement, only smirked at her. "He wants you to stay put. I'd listen if I were you."

"That's only because you scare easily," she said, her lips curled into an unhappy grimace. "Why stay put?"

"Well," Hass said, "he went to enough trouble to make sure you're waiting for him. Makes it important, doesn't it?"

DG wasn't so easily convinced. As the afternoon waned, thoughts of _what_ exactly Wyatt wanted to talk about began to dominate her mind. Since arriving back in Central City after their quick 'honeymoon' in the Realm of the Unwanted, Azkadellia and her endless stream of advisors had kept them so busy that sometimes it seemed they were merely bumping into each other every night in their bed. There simply wasn't time to lurk in the shadows together and discuss what the future might bring, concerning themselves or the Emerald. Every word spoken needed to be one-hundred-percent safe to be overheard.

Truth be told, she hadn't had reason to complain about the non-verbal routine they'd settled into, even if most of their time spent together was curled in bed, dead asleep. If it was all too much and nothing could be done, then why say anything at all? In the three weeks since they'd been back in Central City, Azkadellia seemed intent on keeping them grounded and Ambrose seemed to be in cohorts with her regarding the matter. Both wanted nothing more than to keep their loved ones safe and close, but the burden of the Emerald's continued presence wasn't a weight that either Ambrose or Az had to bear. Why relive this frustration over and over again through repetitive conversation?

It wasn't avoidance. It wasn't running. It was common sense, and it kept her from being impulsive.

Wyatt had seemed to agree. Or so she had thought.

Well, what was there to do but stretch it out that last little bit? By the time the shadows had begun to lengthen across the halls, she'd found a precise course of action: if he wanted to talk to her as badly as it seemed, he was going to have to find her first.

After dinner, she set out. She wasn't going to make it incredibly difficult, she just wanted to avoid the heavy threat of serious dealings as long as she could without making things worse. Really, it was all his fault. If he hadn't sent her the message, she would have been downstairs in the entrance hall waiting for him right at that moment.

Hass followed her as far as the lift before he caught on to what she was up to.

"You don't pick your battles too well, do you?" he asked with a chuckle.

She chose not to answer him. After pushing the button for the lift, she turned to him with her very best no-nonsense face. "Make yourself scarce, okay?"

The corporal shook his head. "Can't do that."

"See, right there. Scared. Shaking in your boots at the wrath of Cain."

Hass smirked. "Not gonna work, Deeg."

Behind her, the doors slid open. "You don't appreciate how witty I am."

"No, no I don't."

For a long moment, she stood there and considered him. Honestly, he was getting too good at his job. It made him overconfident. This she proved to herself by taking two steps back into the lift; there was a faint shimmer from her hand as she waved to him and then a veil of white light spread over the open lift doors.

"How about how clever I am?" she asked with a grin.

Hass' face was wiped of all expression as he realized this was checkmate. He put up a hand to test the veil, but seemed to reconsider the shock he might get, and his hand dropped once again in defeat. "If anyone asks, you don't know where I am," she told him as the doors began to close on him.

"That would lose me my job," he reminded her before disappearing from sight. The doors locked together and DG was left staring at her reflection. It was completely her own from head to toe, all princess but for the spark in her eyes. Sighing, she pushed the button in the gilded panel; the lift began to ascend smoothly. Up and up... _Alta Torretta, the highest tower._

When the doors opened, the darkened arboretum spread out before her. The paved paths that ran under the reaching branches were uniform and straight; the alley of yellow bricks heading straight up the center more so than any. This was no ambling Old Road, its existence as deeply rooted as the Outer Zone herself. This was just a road of yellow bricks, a way that led nowhere but one single, unchangeable destination. Still, she followed it, out toward the dome and the western observation deck. The suns were setting in the east, and the western view would provide a perfect glimpse of the night to come as it slowly claimed the sky.

The arboretum was empty, just the way she liked it. No clanging of tools, no murmuring of voices just out of sight. Most of the light filtered down from the dome, weak and dying sunslight. Soon, the dome lights would be turned on, blinding beacons to highlight the crown jewel of Central City. This was the quietest hour, and one of her favourite places to escape to. It was also one of the first places Wyatt would come looking for her once he checked their room.

The wind hit her hard in the chest as she opened the door, but after the initial blast, the night seemed calm and crisp. Walls of glass sheltered the deck from the wind, wrought tendrils of white scrolling over the glass in thorny patterns. On the railing, a golden-brown falcon perched; it clicked its beak at her in a way she might almost have taken as disapproving.

"Well played," she chuckled.

The falcon cocked its head curiously.

A voice spoke up from the long shadows. "He showed up about a minute before you did." DG whirled, startled to see Zee step away from the glass wall, bathing herself in the paling sunslight.

DG let loose the breath that had gotten stuck in her throat. "So you got that lurking thing down pretty well then?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself. She focused on heat, imagining warmth seeping from her palms; it did the trick well enough. Who needed a jacket?

"What reason would any of us have to hide?" Zee raised an eyebrow in question.

"I think you're just trying to stay a figment of my imagination," DG replied. She went to the railing and dared herself to look down. No, heights didn't bother her so much when there was something solid beneath her feet. Around them, the rooftops of the city sparkled with light, each fluorescent star fighting to be the brightest among a thousand.

"I am rather good at that, aren't I?" Zee asked, and she laughed. DG laughed too, there was no fighting it. "I'll be gone and just another memory soon." There was no sadness in this statement or finality of any sort; in fact, DG wouldn't have been imagining things if she'd thought there was a hint of hope behind Zee's words.

"Have you decided when?" DG asked, watching as the falcon flew to the top of the wall to look down at them with its perceptive eyes. It gave the illusion of privacy, though every word spoken was heard by discreet ears.

"I keep telling myself any day now," Zee said as she joined DG at the railing. Her hands curled around the iron and she braced her weight against it, but her eyes never once flicked down to take in the dizzying heights. "But every morning, I wake up and I'm still here. I doubt I'll ever stop waking up expecting all of this to be a dream, that I never had a vision to return to the O.Z. in the first place."

"You could stay," DG ventured. It was a futile attempt she knew, but still she tried, ever optimistic.

"No, I couldn't," Zee said, sounding so assured. "Not knowing what I'd be missing on the Other Side. I'm not like you, I've got nothing to anchor me here."

An old argument. "We could," DG persisted. It was like fighting with her own wilfully made-up mind. "If there's nothing for you here and nothing for you _there,_ then –"

"That tower is an eyesore." Zee cleanly cut DG off.

The Sorceress' tower? DG's eyes went to it automatically, far off in the West, barely visible in the deepening haze of twilight. The lonely sentinel; its light could not cut the darkness, couldn't brighten the night as Central City did.

"Full of jailed Longcoats; there's irony for you," Zee continued. "And the one that got away?"

Up on the balcony, drowned out by the wind, DG thought it safe to speak. "The army will probably keep up the search for a while," she said. "I don't think he'll come back to the O.Z., and I can't help him if he ever does."

"The others locked up in that tower won't get away so easily, will they?"

There was a long silence as DG wondered what the answer to that question would be. A string of sleepless nights trailed behind her, every thought and dream plagued by the weight of the Lady Catt's army of broken Longcoats. There was a solution to the whole horrible business floating somewhere underneath the surface of her conscience, where the influence of others opinions and her duties to her realm battled with her sense of what was right.

Zee eventually laughed at her lack of an answer. "I hope you've got a plan."

DG turned away from the tower and the night behind it, toward Zee and the sweet pale face that was so much like her own. "Would it surprise you if I did?"

Zee smirked. "No, I don't think it would." She glanced behind them, past the glass and into the darkened arboretum. "Just don't tell anyone what it is. Gives them no cause to stop you until it's too late." DG raised an eyebrow, and the girls shared a conspiratorial look. "Now get inside, no more hiding. Don't antagonize the Tin Man."

_Wow, I must be getting too predictable, _DG thought as she glanced up toward the falcon still perched on top of the wall. She walked across the observation deck, slippers scraping on the cement; at the door, as her hand touched the glass handle, she turned back. Zee was looking down at the city, to the very roots of the towers around them. "Don't worry," Zee said without turning around. "I won't leave without saying goodbye."

Her words haunted DG all the way up the avenue. She was halfway to the lift when the doors slid open, spilling light across the floor. Wyatt stepped out, looked around; she stopped walking when he saw her, stayed planted in the center of the yellow-bricked avenue.

"Got my message then, did you?" He was annoyed with her, his voice hard-edged, but his face was weathered with exhaustion. He was in no mood for a fight.

"I did; there was even a page boy attached. Can I keep him?"

Cain rubbed a hand over his face as she closed the distance. When she was within arm's reach, she tried smiling at him, but she was going to have to get him to look at her first. "Welcome home," she said, tilting her head. He pulled his hand away from his face, and his blue eyes pierced her.

"Forty minutes, I've been lookin' for you," he said. "I'm going to ring someone's feathery neck."

DG rolled her eyes. "Hass was out on the balcony with me. Trust me, he's better at this job than you are."

"And what are you doin' up here in the first place?"

"Playing hard to get."

Cain stared at her, gauging her answer; after a moment, the angry expression ironed out of his features and the briefest smile flashed across his lips. "Figured it was bad news?"

"Or worse news." She chewed on her lip, raising her eyebrows expectantly at him.

"All depends on you, Kiddo," he said, and took her by the elbow. He led her down a path that branched away from the main avenue, one that carried them to a darker section. The glow of the city through the glass dome above their heads poured down through the branches concealing them, dappling their skin with jagged streaks of darkness and light.

He looked around once, even though she could promise him that they were alone. "The generals are gettin' mighty impatient, Deeg, especially Andrus."

"Did you tell him to keep his shirt on?" she asked, staring at her feet.

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "That's one you're gonna have to deliver in person."

"I might have to," she replied unhappily, "if they don't stop hounding me over this."

Cain shook his head. His words were weighted with practical sense. "You need to make a decision. Azkadellia is the only thing stopping the generals from hangin' each and every one of those men. Some might say they would be right to do it."

"Some might say," she said, the words leaving a nasty taste in her mouth. "Do you mean, _you_ might say?"

Cain stiffened. "I told Andrus, kind as I was able, to leave you be. I stand by you, that ain't gonna change."

But DG wasn't about to be fooled; nothing changed the fact that she'd been avoiding making this decision for weeks. She could pretend all she wanted that a few more days would make the difference, but it didn't, not really. In her heart, she knew what she had to do. She just needed the courage to stand up for herself and her choices. Nothing else would do.

* * *

***

* * *

The windswept plains out beyond the tower were the perfect place to awaken a travel storm. There were no towns in the West, no cabins dotting the hills that gently rolled away from the grassy plain. Only the tower stood watch over this wasteland, where the world was tainted grey from the occupancy of the witch. One day, colour might return to this part of the Zone, but now it only served as a lonely reminder of darker days.

DG's eyes had been drawn toward the Western mountains, and there they had stayed. She had thought that the next time she left Central City would be to journey into the mountains and rid her family of the burden of the Emerald, but of course, she'd been wrong. The Emerald was safely stowed away in Central City, kept there under Azkadellia's stone resolve to let things settle down.

No, this walk was not for her. It was only to say goodbye to a friend.

The pale sky had begun to cloud over. The temperature plummeted and the wind picked up. Cain had pointed out snow clouds over the Western mountains during the drive to the tower, reminding her how late in the season it was. She'd already made up her mind that she didn't want to put off the Emerald's last journey any longer, she just... needed to work up the nerve to stand up to her sister's fear and fussing.

Beside her, there was a smile on Zee's face. She walked with her face turned up to the sky, as if she were being basked in warm summer sunslight instead of being blasted by fierce winds. It was the contentment on Zee's face that had finally convinced DG. This leaving, this goodbye, it was all right.

"Where are you going to go?" DG called out over the wind. It seemed silly that she hadn't bothered asking this at all.

"I don't know," Zee said with a shrug. She grinned at DG, a vibrant show of teeth against the endlessness of the grey around them. "Maybe I'll just see where I end up!"

DG's eyes widened. "And if you end up landing on someone's farm?"

Zee laughed, turning her smile skyward again. "Then keep an ear open for new Slippers on this side, I might accidentally send some back." DG began to laugh herself. As she pulled her hat down snugger over her ears, she realized that this was what goodbye was supposed to be. No desperate break, no hurried promises of _soon_, no one chasing behind. A laugh and a tear and a good luck, that was how friends parted.

"I don't know what would have happened without you," DG confessed, her tongue loose and honest as it wound down to the final moments.

"Don't start," Zee said. "We helped each other out."

No, it was more, but DG kept her lips tight together. The girls embraced, awkwardly affectionate, bound together only to be severed as if it had never been. The boy had tried to slip so seamlessly into her lives; could the girl really slip away thinking that everyone would just forget the mark she'd left?

And all the while, the smile on Zee's face kept the tears off of DG's. An ending was just a bright new beginning, wasn't it?

The clouds had begun to swirl one into the next, reminding DG of bad mixtures of water and paint; she'd painted these clouds once upon a time, black funnels twisting down to prairies spotted with wildflowers. There were no flowers here, only the monotony of a forever of grey.

"Take care of this place. The Zone; take care of her," Zee said, head tilted back, speaking to the sky. "And don't call unless you really need me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," DG said, faintly smiling. She began to focus on keeping herself rooted in the Outer Zone, telling herself that no force on the face of the O.Z. could drag her from her home. It was her magic that would keep her protected from the storm, and nothing else. She'd insisted she could do it, it couldn't be _that_ hard. But as she looked up at the massive, churning sky, she really hoped her arrogance hadn't been bluffing.

Wyatt would never trust her to go off on her own again if she took an unexpected day trip to the Other Side.

"Story of our lives, getting dragged into someone else's mess," Zee said. "Let's just hope it ends with us. You'll be – oh damn it, hold that thought."

Zee took a step back away from DG, and then another, and then a third. Her eyes never left the sky as the wind whipped her hair around her face. There was a blinding flash as a sharp, bright light down toward the ground; DG shielded her eyes with her arms, losing her hat to the wind as she let go of it.

But as suddenly as the sky had broken open for the lightning, the wind died down and everything went eerily quiet. Realization took hold; DG's arms slowly fell away from her face, and she found herself standing on an empty plain, alone, as the suns rays pierced the clouds and filtered down all around her.

_The storm is over._

* * *

_Author's Note II: The reviews were so lovely last time. Thanks to all that left them._


	47. Chapter Forty Seven

**Chapter Forty Seven**

Wyatt Cain was beginning to wonder just how much of a headcase his princess thought he was.

He could give her credit for how long she'd kept it hidden from him. He could even admire her for how long she'd acted as if she herself were unaware. That didn't change the fact that the charade was still going, and she didn't seem intent on dropping it any time soon.

He wasn't about to play dumb. It was time to put an end to it, before the situation got any hotter than it already was.

Cain had waited until he was absolutely certain. He wasn't quite sure when the first inkling had first settled in the back of his mind, the first tweak of his brain saying something wasn't the same as it had been. Perhaps it had been merely instinctual. It was his job to watch her, after all, and watch her he did.

It just went to show what happened when a man got too comfortable, and stopped thinking that a girl could surprise him.

It changed things. It changed important things. He hadn't considered children so soon; they'd been married less than six weeks. That didn't stop the unabashedly pleased grin from stupidly taking over his face when he let himself think of a baby. A smile that was always inevitably destroyed by the reality of tasks yet unfinished.

Outlanders and Emeralds and 'Coats, oh my.

To hell with DG's _'oh my'_ attitude; she might still be afraid to hurt her sister's feelings, but he wasn't. Not when it came to his life and his own. No more dancing around –

"What's with the face?"

Cain blinked. "What?"

"You shouldn't be thinking so hard," she said, her lips turning down into a concerned frown. "You have a vein..." She reached up and brushed her fingers against his neck. Around them, more than one person took notice of her affectionate display, but DG was blind to all but him. He offered her a weak half-smile, putting his hand over her own and removing it gently.

"Go say your good-nights," he told her, losing none of his seriousness as he gave her a nudge. "I'll meet you upstairs in fifteen minutes. Don't be late, Princess."

DG might not be able to disappear from the banquet without being noticed, but he could well enough. He threaded his way through the crowd and out the door. He left her staring after him with bright suspicion in her eyes, knowing that she'd chase after him just out of pure curiosity. Surely enough, he'd barely sat down on the bed to take his shoes off when she thundered into their bedroom, cheeks flared pink.

"Wyatt, why –"

"You didn't say goodnight to your sister." It wasn't a question. She couldn't have made it in time if she'd gone to find Azkadellia; Az would've kept her tied up until the end of the celebrations. DG looked sheepish and she fell back a step, relaxing her posture a bit.

"Something's up," she said, gesturing pointlessly at him. He shook his head and went back to removing his shoes. She waited silently and watched him as he finished with his shoes and stood; he shrugged off his dinner jacket and slung it over the back of a chair, and still she waited for him to start talking. He was glad she was suddenly patient because he didn't know where to begin.

"That snow ain't gonna wait forever," he finally said. Her eyes went automatically to the window. "You know well as I that you can't wait until spring. We need this Emerald business done and over with."

"You're right," she said. Her admission, instead of the denial he'd expected, threw him off. She took the stumbled beat and used it to move closer to him. Her hands were on his shirt buttons before he could protest; it was something she'd taken a liking to, helping him remove his clothes at the end of the day. Most days, he couldn't say he wasn't more than happy to return the favour, but tonight was different – every night to come would be until she was free and clear.

"It'll be ten days on the road," he said. "We take it slow. You shouldn't be travellin' that rough, but there ain't much choice."

DG stiffened, and her fingers slipped on a button. He smirked to see her, but wiped it off his face as she glanced uncertainly up at him. He wasn't about to admit anything, but he loved her brass.

"Once you talk to your sister, I'll arrange a full detail," he continued. She went back to his buttons, more determined than she had been before. "You can guarantee that those roads are gonna be guarded, I doubt we'll have anythin' to worry about there or back."

"He's probably been waiting for us," she said, lowering her voice.

"Not probably. Sure as the suns, he's been waitin'."

"And you'll stay with me through it all?"

Cain looked down at her. "You shouldn't have to ask yourself that."

"I was asking you."

"Is that little curiosity what's had you so tetchy lately?"

He'd hit a nerve. She abandoned the very last button; she gave him an awkward pat on the chest and turned away from him. She crossed the room to what was probably a very safe distance from her perspective, and kept her back to him as she reached awkwardly behind her to unbutton her dress.

"That wasn't exactly an answer, Kiddo." He went to her, and started on her buttons. With a trembling sigh, she pulled her hair out of his way, glancing over her shoulder nervously. He was getting to her, and it brought a tiny prideful smirk to his lips, thinking of her at his mercy.

He didn't – couldn't – understand her reluctance to tell him. The dawning of his realization a week back had memories of another life surging to the surface. Adora hadn't been able to wait to tell him; she'd whispered in his ear that night over supper that the guild was looking at another mouth to feed. As they'd left their guild behind when they'd moved to Central City, it hadn't been hard to figure out what she'd meant.

DG, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. Even now, she tried to act as if nothing was wrong, that a whole lot of untold was floating around between them.

"If you think the roads are guarded by the Commander's men, then why do we need a full detail?" she asked, trying to weave her way smoothly out of such rocky conversational territory by changing the subject all together. Not an ounce of subtlety. She was going to evade him until the very end, which was fine. He didn't mind chasing her, even if he was the reason she was running.

"Honestly, I'm a little tired of takin' our chances," he said. "Don't need a single thing goin' wrong this time around, Princess." His fingers worked rhythmically at the long row of pearl clasps that held her gown closed. As he came to the end of the row, the top of the dress began to slide off her shoulders, and she put a hand to her breastbone to keep her front covered. After he'd popped the final clasp, he placed a soft kiss to her exposed neck.

"I'll talk to Azkadellia tomorrow," she said. "I don't know how soon after that we can leave."

Cain shook his head. "When did you get so afraid of steppin' on toes?"

DG turned in his arms, still holding her dress up to the tops of her breasts. "I'm not afraid of stepping on anyone's toes," she said, indignation seeping through her quiet words. "I just can never seem to end one nightmare-adventure before I'm falling into another one. This time, I'm being careful where I step. I just want to come home at the end of this one."

He pulled her closer, saving his chuckle to press into her dark hair. "I'll make sure you come home."

She sighed again, a delicate shiver of breath. "I know."

Something wasn't right about this. He pulled her to arm's length and stared down into her sad face. Might as well just call her out. "You can tell me what's eatin' you up, Darlin'. Don't know why you think you can't."

"You won't like it."

He blinked. Why would she think that? "What gave you that notion?"

"My belly's got a funny feeling."

Her word choice lifted his spirits, and he relaxed. He ran his hands from her shoulders, pushing her dress sleeves down her arms until he was tugging the dress down over her hips. She stood with it puddled at her feet, so far and away from where she physically was as she concentrated on his face. Her eyes pleaded with his.

"Say it, DG."

She swallowed once, loudly. "I'm turning the Longcoats over to the Commander."

"You –" He stopped, and his jaw hardened. "_What_?"

* * *

***

* * *

"Your Highness –"

DG turned away from the window, losing the last bit of the second sunset as she faced what she'd come this far for.

"Her Majesty will see you now."

DG thanked her sister's steward, and slipped through the open doorway; the steward snapped it shut behind her and she was once again quite suddenly all alone. She found herself standing in a hallway she'd never seen before; branching off to her left and to her right, there were open doors spilling light on either end. On the stretch of wall between, a series of scenic landscapes hung in heavily carved frames. Her eyes trained on the central painting, a thin ribbon of gold streaming through lush, rolling hills patched with fields.

Voices drifted out of the room to her right.

"– Thank you very kindly for your concern, but there are matters that take precedence over the renegotiation with Ix," Azkadellia said; she was calm and collected and under control, and DG felt a surge of admiration as she eavesdropped. "Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me –"

"Your Majesty, I must protest in light of the fact you seem to be avoiding these issues. You cannot shun the invitation from –"

"Master Creighton, I will not visit Ix to have Her Majesty parade her sons in front of me. The terms can be negotiated well enough by my advisors – I trust you are up to the task?"

Creighton seemed to be sputtering. After a moment, Azkadellia continued, cutting off his disjointed syllables.

"Now if you will please allow me to see my sister. Ambrose, notify me immediately when the ambassadors from Ix arrive."

Glitch's voice joined the others. "It will be quite a few weeks, Majesty, as they'll need to be sent for. They returned over the desert to prepare for your state visit."

"Well then, that's taken care of. Goodnight, gentlemen," Azkadellia said, with a tone that DG very rarely heard. It reminded her – reminded everyone – of the cruel and uncaring being that had taken hold of Az's voice and body for so many annuals. Memories of the Possession were never far away, and the faces of the advisors as they filed past her were pale, their eyes on the floor.

Ambrose trailed last. "Careful, she's in a foul temper," he said, his dark eyes sparkling. He seemed happy to have been released from the Queen's service for the evening. He nodded his head once at her, as if trying to say something entirely different, before he disappeared out into the main hallway and left her alone again in the antechamber.

"DG?" Azkadellia called, breaking into DG's delusions of one-man-alone. She entered the office where her sister stood near the fireplace. Jeb was at the window, and seemed distracted by the view. He was in official uniform, buttoned to the collar and very upright; it looked incredibly taxing.

"Az –"

"Lieutenant Cain, if you could please relieve the guard on duty," Azkadellia said, and Jeb nodded. He slipped out past DG before she could react to him. He gave her a wink and then closed the door behind him.

"I'm becoming Mother, aren't I?" Az asked her as soon as the door had clicked shut.

DG laughed nervously. "Haven't known Mother very long myself, but you could be right. Isn't the treaty with Ix less than two years old?"

"It was mostly a copy of the old agreement, before the Emerald War sealed off the Zone," Azkadellia said dismissively. "As it stands, stopping the Lady Catt's planned assault on the kingdom has shone a more favourable light on the O.Z. and its ruler."

"And so –"

"And so marriage makes for a stronger alliance, according to old customs," Az said, and rolled her eyes. "I'm not having any of it. You're the one that saved the Zone again, I just served as the distraction."

"You don't think about getting married, Az?"

"Not to a foreign prince handed to me on a platter." She turned her back on DG, and the matter seemed to be closed. DG stared at her sister's back, clad in silk and hidden by a raven-black cascade. She tried to think of all the things she could say, but everything fell painfully short of appropriate.

Azkadellia seemed determined to move on. "I met with Andrus this afternoon, at his insistence," she said, sifting deftly through the papers covering the surface of the small antique desk to her right. She handed one over to DG. "He continues to disagree with my decision to harbour my own war criminals. DG, we can't – "

"Az, I've come up with the answer to that one. That's sort of why I'm here."

Azkadellia stopped with her mouth hanging open, her next words jumbling in her throat into a single small sound. She blinked at her sister, and then very delicately closed her mouth. She looked very hard at the floor before glancing up at DG. "You have?"

DG nodded. She'd never spoken out loud about her intentions, not that she'd really had any up until a few days ago. Before that, it had all been speculation, wonder and worry. Coming to her decision was really the hardest part. Following through on the course she chose would be a piece of cake; her basis for comparison was deeply rooted in her past, and she felt sure of herself, wholly and completely, for the first time in too long.

Azkadellia wasn't dissuaded by her sister's thoughtful silence. "DG, what is it? You don't look like you're favouring execution."

DG's eyes widened. "No, not gonna happen. Think of it as extradition."

Az's serene expression broke, and the first lines of worry appeared on her brow. "Extradition! DG, you can't –"

"Az, you need to trust me," DG said, reaching for her sister's hands. Az was growing pale and cold, and at the contact, a white glow surrounded their skin. "And trust yourself. I need your help to do this. You're the one with all the authority, remember?"

Az's eyes misted over, even as a smile graced her lips. "And you're still using that to start trouble," she muttered, laughing at DG's blue-fire eyes. She turned DG's palm over in her own to run her fingers over the shiny scar that the magic of the Emerald had cut into DG's palm as it broke forever. "Some things don't change, do they?"

DG grinned. "Nope, never."

"And the Emerald?" Azkadellia asked, tapping her finger on the center of DG's palm, the inner-circle from which two paths diverged. Where it all began.

"Wyatt thinks preparations should take three days, maybe four," DG said; she exhaled hard when her eyes met her sister's again. "We can be back in ten days time, if the weather cooperates, but... why would it cooperate?" Her little joke fell flat as Azkadellia frowned.

"I've stalled you as long as I could, haven't I?"

"You've stalled me as long as I've let you. I'm not five any more, Az," DG said carefully. "You don't need to keep me safe."

Az gave her a fleeting, watery smile. "Can you blame me for wanting to?"

"I'll be home before you know it, and then I promise you, we'll have reason to celebrate."

Azkadellia was skeptical, but in the end agreed to help DG arrange the extradition of the men imprisoned in the tower. If her sister was stepping lighter, seemed happier, Azkadellia didn't notice. To leave DG with such tasks before her yet, to face the Commander a final time to turn over what had been promised to him... Azkadellia forced the fear she felt for her sister to the very back of her mind.

She laughed at herself, wishing to be as brave as her baby sister.

"Everything okay?" Jeb asked her as he came into the room; he was already unbuttoning his collar. She envied him, as she couldn't start shedding her own clothing until she'd reached her suite. Exhaustion kept at the periphery all day was beginning to sneak back up on her.

"I'm not altogether sure, to be honest," Azkadellia said, sweeping the papers on the desk into a stack. "It's always everything at once."

"There's never a good time for some of this stuff," Jeb said vaguely, but she caught his meaning clearly enough. "At least you won't have to worry about DG, or my father. They'll manage themselves fine."

"You don't let yourself worry at all, do you?" She smiled as she asked him, and he allowed himself a small return.

"Naw, I'm here to balance you out, since you do it so much."

Her smile melted and she blushed.

"I want you to accompany DG and Captain Cain into the West," Azkadellia said, trying to shrug off his gentle and thoroughly unpredictable words. "Leave it to me to notify the captain in the morning."

Jeb narrowed his eyes. "But why me?"

"Because I want as many people that DG can trust that we can spare," she said, "and you're bored. You've been pacing windows for a week."

The truth of her statement rolled right off of him. "You don't need me here?"

Azkadellia smiled. "No, I want you here, but I need you there."

"Want me, do you?" Jeb distinguished with a snicker. He raised a suggestive eyebrow, and Azkadellia slapped his arm with the papers she held. She walked briskly from the room then, Jeb trailing behind her and trying to contain his laughter as they re-entered busier parts of the palace.

There would be time for this later, when the Emerald had left Gale hands and the last of the ties with the past had been severed. Time to focus on securing the future of the House of Gale, and the greatness of the Outer Zone. Right now, there was plenty to do preparing for the hell DG planned to raise come morning.

* * *

***

* * *

DG could count on one hand the number of times she saw Wyatt over the next few days as their impending departure loomed dark on their horizon. She didn't need any fingers at all to count how often he'd spoken to her. He tried hard to keep his anger curbed, and the result was a continuous pattern of quiet avoidance.

In the end, it was Raw who laid it all out for her. He did so as he walked the grounds with her, looping the Central palace's small gardens again and again as her falcon guardian perched on a third story window ledge, an ever-watchful eye trained on her and all that surrounded her.

"DG keep secret for too long," Raw said gruffly; DG couldn't remember a time when he'd spoken so gravely to her. "Secret hurt when found out. Hurt because DG not tell Cain with own words."

The surge of guilt she felt wasn't at all a new feeling. It was a weight in her chest that made it hard to breathe.

"I didn't want to worry him or anyone else until after the Emerald is gone," DG said. "He fights so hard to protect what's his, I didn't want him to –" She stopped short when she noticed Raw shaking his head sadly at her.

"Should not keep from him what his." Raw's gentle, dark eyes pierced her. He placed a careful hand on her shoulder.

He was right, and she was an idiot. She left Raw with a hug, and he watched her go with the faith she would do the right thing. When he touched her arm, he felt everything inside of her that she tried so hard to keep buried; her desire to fix things she saw as her fault, worry for her sister and an unfailing love for Wyatt Cain, the child she carried with its own strongly beating heart.

It was with regret that DG realized she didn't have Cain's tracking skills. He was nowhere in the palace, nor did anyone seem to know where he'd disappeared to. There were a few haunts of his around the city she could look; the old apartment and his all-but-abandoned office at the Tin Man Armoury to start. She was busy arguing with Hass the finer details of the definition of _'permission'_ in her sitting room when the inevitable happened – the door opened, and Wyatt walked in.

"You'd best be startin' your goodbyes, Jeremy," he said, clapping Hass on the shoulder as he strode past. He went straight into the bedroom, calling through the open doorway, "We leave come nightfall tomorrow."

Hass nodded at DG before he left the room; she barely heard the lock click securely behind him as Cain came out of the bedroom once again, rolling up his sleeves as he went. His coat and vest were gone, his feet bare. He lined himself up with her and looked her over with torn blue eyes.

"You think this plan of yours is gonna work this time, Princess?"

She grinned, wondering if she could charm the pants off of him and get herself out of trouble. "That last plan was never mine. My plans always work," she said confidently.

"You've got an awful habit of takin' credit for when things work out on their own."

"Wyatt –"

"You do realize that if the Outlander doesn't accept your offer, the 'Coats are stuck here facin' double charges of treason, among whatever other charges the public calls up on them."

DG glared at him. "Would you just shut up for one minute?"

"You got somethin' you want to say, Mrs. Cain?"

"I do. I should have said something sooner," she said, all the built up steam rushing out of her with her words. She took a deep breath. "About deciding to give the Longcoats over and about –"

"About?" Cain's eyebrow perked, daring her.

"Would you let me apologize? This was never about Longcoats or Outlanders, was it?" she asked.

He gave a barely-there shake of his head. A single pace from each other they stood, at the very heart of the matter, his hurt and her pride, both breaking down the center. DG went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his stiff shirt collar. Wyatt's arms went around her, his large hands splaying across her back to keep her pressed against him.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she muttered, knocking her forehead once against his shoulder. "You weren't supposed to figure it out on your own."

He exhaled deeply, kissing the side of her head. "Tell me now."

She raised her head, looked up at him. "But you –"

"_Tell_ me," he said in a voice she'd come to learn was better to obey.

A full minute passed before she could put together what she wanted to say, what he deserved to hear. "When I told you before," she said as steadily as she could, "that I could never get out of one adventure without winding up in another one..." She paused, and sighed. "I wasn't lying, you know. The night we went to the Reader to ask her about the Emerald, when I got the answer to my _one_ question –"

"Started somethin' that night, did we?" he asked, the corner of his mouth turning up in an unmistakeable half-smile.

She nodded. "Yeah, we did."

"When did you figure all this out?"

"I didn't have to – the Reader told me. On our second visit."

Cain made a low noise in the back of his throat as he sorted through what she'd said. "So you've been sittin' on this for six weeks."

"I wanted to tell you," she said quietly. "But then I would have had to tell Azkadellia, and you would have wanted to tell Jeb. And then there's my parents, and Ambrose, and then there will be announcements and gifts and visitors and –"

"You can quit now, Darlin'," Cain said with a snort. "I get the idea."

"So what gave me away?" she asked, her curious blue eyes meeting his.

"Too many things to be ignored. Between Raw droppin' hints for you to rest up, and your wine glass sittin' untouched every night, and you not turnin' me away once in two months because of your cycle..."

DG blushed furiously, dropping her eyes. Cain chuckled.

She bit her lip. "You're not mad."

"No, I ain't mad," he said, and to prove his point, he leaned down to pluck a kiss from her lips. "Don't care much for havin' to leave tomorrow. You shouldn't be –"

"Don't say it," she said, holding up her hand between them. "Don't start. You can 'delicate flower' me along with everyone else once we get back. You said yourself that Juniper is just about the gentlest horse you ever encountered."

"Yeah, all right," he said, but she knew that wasn't the end of it.

With an arm around her shoulders, Cain took DG to bed. Together, they undressed and lay down between the cool sheets. It wasn't until they were both settled that he allowed himself to touch her stomach; he pressed his palm to the flat plain of her abdomen, his fingers curving down toward the slope of her waist. The pale bronze light of the city filtered in through the window; she watched his face, the deep concentration as his hand swept once over her belly, and then twice. There was nothing there to brag about, but she was certain she was seeing the last days of her girlish figure.

Cain was propped up on an elbow above her. He'd folded the blanket down to have an unobstructed view of her; with his free hand heavy on her, he drifted upward from under her navel, tracing a path over the underside of her breast, before cupping his palm over her. A spark ignited inside of her as his eyes met hers for a slow, torturous second; she suppressed a shiver, urging herself to stay still even as he ran the pad of his thumb over her nipple.

"That feel good?" he asked her, watching her face intently. When she didn't answer, he repeated the motion, smirking at the tremor that ran over her features, her eyes closing, her sharp inhale. She began to hum an affirmation, but it turned into a low moan as he leaned his head down to capture the tiny peak in his mouth. He sucked hard, and she gasped.

He pressed himself closed to her, his hardening erection nudging her hip. The heat from his hand left a trail of passion-seared flesh as it ran over her ribs, her waist, down to dip between her legs; every inch of skin he'd touched yearned for more, the places left bereft begging for attention. His fingers slid into her folds, and his groan drowned out her whisper of his name.

"So wet," he murmured against her neck, "and I've barely touched you."

A grin ghosted over her face; she opened her eyes to see him staring down at her. She watched the muscles in his shoulders move beneath his skin as he angled his wrist and pressed two fingers inside. Her mouth fell open in a soundless pant, their eyes locking together; he refused to let her go as he gently stroked her. The weak light and creeping shadows made it hard to read his eyes, the stormiest depths of him hidden from her.

Her eyes slipped closed; half a breath later, Cain's fingers thrust deeper. "Keep 'em open, Sweetheart."

She shook her head. "Can't."

He pressed his thumb down onto her clit; her eyes popped open at the sudden surge of pleasure that disappeared as fast as it had come. "Good girl," he said, and resumed the pressure on her. He curled his fingers upward and she came hard against his hand, her back arching. Before she fell back to the mattress, he slid an arm underneath her and rolled onto his back, dragging her up to cover his chest. Her head still spinning, she followed his guidance as he nudged her legs farther apart. With one easy thrust, he buried himself in her velvet warmth.

DG's arms shook as she braced herself on his chest. His jaw was set hard, his blue eyes drinking in the sight hovering over him. His hands lingered on her stomach before running over her breasts, up to her neck; he pulled her down to him, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss. The aftershocks of her orgasm still bore down on his invasion, and he moaned, letting his head fall back to the pillows as she began to move over him.

She sat up, giggling; she rolled her hips as he reached down to grip her by the backs of her thighs, tucking her knees against his sides as she straddled him. She rode him slowly, lazily chasing after the scattered flutter of pleasure that rippled through her core every time she sank down. Cain was still, one arm bent to rest under his head, the opposite hand running possessively from hip to breast and back. She arched into the touch, wanting more of his scorching palm on her skin, wanting...

Wyatt braced his feet against the bed and thrust up as she was coming down, pressing himself deeper; he continued to move underneath of her, pushing deeper and harder until she spun down over him, her breasts flat against his chest, forehead damp against his shoulder as she came with a cry. He groaned beneath her, thrusting up once, twice more before she felt his release pulse hot within her. She whimpered as she relaxed her tightened body, resting her weight on him as his arms went around her.

She turned her face into his neck. "That was –" she mumbled, but found she didn't have the words. Even her half-sentence was slurred with exhausted satisfaction. A smile had come to her lips, and she didn't know from where. Some part of her chastised that she should feel guilty about her happiness, that it was wrong when there was so much suffering to be dealt with, with the burden of the Emerald still hanging over their heads. But as Wyatt's strong, sure hands rubbed her back as comfortingly as he knew how, she knew there was no shame in the happiness that came with having the one you loved by your side as you struggled through the trials life – and long-dead ancestresses – threw at you.

There might be darkness in their future, but it was _their _future. No force in the world could stop every change from altering their course. No book or crystal ball could predict what they would face.

She sighed, and a tremor ran through her. Wyatt tightened his arms over her sweating back.

"You all right, Sweetheart?" His low whisper washed over her bare shoulder; he kissed the spot where his breath had caressed her.

"Will be," she said, and closed her eyes. "We will be."

* * *

_Author's Note: I'll post the conclusion after the long weekend. That is, unless there are demands... _


	48. Chapter Forty Eight

_Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to anyone and everyone on ff(dot)net and LJ that commented or reviewed on this story or "Of Light". You know what that means? You leave me one when you've finished, and this chapter is dedicated to_ **you**.

* * *

**Chapter Forty Eight**

He did not like being made to wait.

His men liked it less. The human soldiers said nothing, the slaves shifted about with their eyes down as always. It was the men from the Outlands, whose skin was as rough and dark as his own, that spoke out against him. The barren hallways of the complex were rife with their bitter griping.

He killed the first of his soldiers to disagree with him outright, the burning black eyes dying slowly as they reflected his rage. After that, his men fell silent, but their eyes did not quiet.

More scouts were sent out; his reach extended to the very darkest corners of the Outer Zone. His scouts watched the Queen's army idly watching the Lady Catt; the old witch remained locked down in her crumbling forest fortress. His scouts watched the shining city as the Queen rode out to meet her enemy.

The final confrontation happened as the suns were rising. The reports that came to him were mixed, but all seemed to agree on one vital point. The blast of magic that had expanded from the heart of the forest, waves of light that knocked the humans' legs right out from underneath of them... all agreed. The resonance of power, tinted emerald in the clear morning light, had defeated the witch of Pastor's time.

The Slipper princess was victorious.

There was no word of his Emerald, not the faintest trace of news on the breeze that had fed his curiosity and impatience so steadily. Only the tiniest nugget of information was given to him by the most unlikely source. The human soldier, Zero, returned to the base; haggard and weary and dragging behind him a disbelieving raven-haired beauty, his wife. It was he that confirmed the Emerald had gone into the forest. Whether it had come out again, he wasn't able to say. The fool had fled at his first opportunity, imagining the royal army of the Outer Zone nipping at his heels. Preposterous; so concerned over the events in the Black Forest, Azkadellia's forces found their jail cells overflowing with prisoners. Movement in the outer realms, on the border went unnoticed; Zero had run from nothing but his own cowardice.

Days passed. Weeks. Long overdue in his own domains, the Commander stayed anchored to the base buried beneath the shifting sands of the great desert. He retracted his scouts, but for one. One, who continued to visit Central City and keep an eye on the youngest Gale.

Waiting for news to return consumed him, and when tidings came, he was overtaken with rage. She celebrated her marriage while the Emerald rested... where? _Where_ was his Emerald?

He stalked the corridors, lights flickering above his head as the ancient generator roared on and on. Even for his toughened hide, it was cold underneath the arid desert.

"You might send her a reminder," one of his men cautiously suggested. "Her refusal to follow through with her agreement –"

"What know you of the agreement?" the Commander barked. The human soldier paled, cringed down into his collar.

While the desert remained a vast, unaltered plain of wind and heat, the seasons had begun to change in the Outer Zone. The cold spell had loosened its icy grip on the countryside, but winter was fast approaching nonetheless. The trees had turned their brilliant colours, then faded to brown, curled and dried and fell to the ground. The rising of the suns brought mornings painted with brittle frost. Snow threatened, but the gods of land and sky held winter at bay.

During the earliest part of the winter, he made the journey upstairs; miles of mountain passageway cut through rock as cold and quiet as he'd ever seen. He shielded his eyes from the blinding light of the twin suns, his senses assaulted, his lungs seared by the clear mountain air.

The girl would come. Something deep inside of him knew this as fact as he stood under her sky. The girl would come to him. Patience was rewarded; brute force failed against such delicate, magical creatures as good witches. He'd learned his lesson hard and well.

Two days later, the first word came in that a military unit was camped on the shores of Lake Lillay.

The Commander allowed himself a smile, a cruel imitation of the satisfaction he felt.

The good and innocent could be predictable. However, he wasn't going to be led astray by faith in this trait; he knew his adversary well enough to stay on his guard, and gain the upper hand as soon as possible.

"Send out an escort to lead them."

* * *

DG was fast learning that happy endings are not so easily made.

The journey into the mountains exhausted both her mind and her body, and she was sure that her budding pregnancy had little to do with it. The endurance of her spirit seemed to have reached its unfathomable limit, a dark and lonely place where no hope or light of optimism could break through. The days were spent riding, with little talking – and no laughter – to break the monotony of the rough-hewn forest landscape. She'd seen a thousand trees or more in the past few months, from the night she'd escaped Central City with Cain, her sister's heartbreak driving her toward a goal that she had no inkling of how to reach.

Her only focus now was the stone. Locked away in a plain, pine box and buried in her saddlebag, it waited to be delivered into hands that desired to hold it more than she desired to be rid of it. Cracked down the center, a cursed jewel of unspeakable value. Worthless to her.

Secretly, she hoped to hand the box over and be done with it. She wished never to lay eyes on the Emerald again.

The nights on the road were bitterly cold. The first, spent on the shores of Lake Lillay, was one of the longest DG could ever remember. Hours after she'd excused herself from the fireside, she lay awake in her tent, listening to the soldiers speak in low voices. Outlanders, they whispered. Had any of them ever really imagined such men to exist? Skin of stone, eyes and souls as black as the depths of the mountains from which they were born, fully grown and lethal. Rumours, legends.

It was Cain that put an end to the idle talk.

"You'll all get your eyeful before this mission is over," he said, his voice ringing clear in the still air. "Just don't let 'em catch you gawkin' or it might well be the last thing you do."

Wyatt insisted on being the first watch that night. She was still awake when he came to the tent, his body cold and his fingers stiff as he curled against her, burrowing his hands under her shirt to warm them against her stomach. She turned to him, seeking solace in his embrace, or perhaps only the reassurance of his presence. The gentle brush of his lips against hers left her hollow and unfulfilled.

Her anxiety grew as the stress of the journey mounted. A second day passed, miles of forest road put behind them, the Brick Route a distant memory yet only a day gone. Another sleepless night, a tremble in her hands that even the firmest of Wyatt's touches couldn't still. When finally he gave up and sighed deeply, he turned her hand over, palm up, showing to them both the shiny pink scar that served as both reminder and warning. Her skin tingled in the winter chill, held aloft over the combined warmth of their bodies trapped under heavy blankets.

"I didn't think we'd make it this far," she admitted to the silence. Cain didn't reply – she wasn't sure if he knew how to – and with the words out of her mouth and the weight off her conscience, she managed to find a niche of calm within herself, and slept.

A third day; the road was unfamiliar even to those who had travelled it once before. All those weeks ago, the Commander's men had utilized the darkness to transport their prisoners after the confrontation with the Lady Catt in the forest; that ill-fated day DG had almost destroyed everything simply by wandering off when she wasn't supposed to. The story of her life.

Now, the road was quiet. There had been no snow, no rain; the dirt was hard-packed and gave up little to those who searched for signs of passage. Had others come this way recently? It was hard – nigh impossible – to say. It left Wyatt in a bitter mood, and the other men were soon to fall into the same swell of bleak uncertainty.

Their pace slowed as the road narrowed and grew gradually steeper, rocky outcrops turning their straight and narrow into twists and turns. The trees grew close, the leaves had fallen and covered the road; it gave DG a better perspective on the vastness of the wilderness they plunged heedlessly into. The temperature dropped steadily as the light began to shift and weaken. It was close to first sunset when a bend in the road brought them face to face with two outlanders, armed and waiting patiently in the middle of their route.

"Our commander has been expecting you. You are to come with us, Your Highness." The gruff bark made DG shudder. "You will be returned here when your business at the complex is complete."

Since crossing over from Kansas, every step she had taken was one made with the hope of reaching an end, and it was with this belief that DG was able to gather up her courage and climb down out of her saddle.

Wyatt hissed in protest, muttering her name like he expected her to listen. While she heard every word he said, it was the most she could give him. There was no listening to anyone or anything but her heart. She'd take a lecture later. Hell, she'd be glad when the time for lectures came, because it would mean that the time for action had finally drawn to a close.

The pine box was easy to find in the saddlebag, and she watched the dark eyes of the two outlander soldiers shine greedily. Oh, they would know what was contained within; a coveted treasure of ages past, as much of a legend to the Commander's men as outlanders themselves were to hers.

Before she could take a step away from her horse, Wyatt was at her side, a hand on her arm.

"Deeg, what –"

"Let's do this, shall we?" she said, taking a deep breath.

Confusion crossed his face, and before he could open his mouth to argue the fact – to tell her that diving in blind was where all her problems started every time – she had offered him up a heartbreakingly hopeful smile, and had begun to call out orders.

* * *

Three days. The Commander made her wait for three days.

Cain and Hass had accompanied her on the long hike higher into the mountains, stumbling in the darkness behind the Commander's men, who navigated the rocky terrain as easily as Glitch could navigate a ballroom floor. An inescapable maw of a crevice in a sheer, towering cliff-face swallowed them up, and they were escorted roughly down miles upon miles of narrow, dripping tunnel. Soon, craggy rock walls had turned into cold cement, and the slippery stone beneath her feet was replaced with metal grating. Their footsteps clanged and echoed and announced their presence. DG was prepared for the separation when it came, and the Commander's soldiers gleaned no pleasure out of wrenching her away from her companions. No, she went willingly, quietly, the Emerald's coffer gripped tightly in her hands.

A small room, a different room. To her, all was the same underground, despite the differences in size and formation. Every hallway was long and echoing, lengths of pipe running along the tops of the walls, hard and unforgiving cement underneath her feet.

Guards stood outside her door; it stayed locked and there was no window. Virtually a prisoner, there was little she could do but sit and wait. She'd done it all before, and she would have yawned with boredom if anxiety hadn't keep attitude at bay so completely. That she was locked in didn't concern her as much as it should, but after a year and a half in the Outer Zone, encountering prison cells and coffins and vast underground networks, she hardly batted an eyelash.

She was being forced to wait, and he wanted it known. She sat willingly... for the first day. By the second, her determination to _get it over with_ was grappling hard with her promise to herself (and to Wyatt) to _do it right _(and _safely_)_._ More relied on her good behaviour than just being rid of the Emerald and escaping back to the light of the suns. The reminder came knocking on her door on the third morning, bearing a tray and shaking his head.

"You cause quite a stir wherever you go, don't ya, Kiddo?" the old man said, giving her a thorough, disapproving look. "He's getting a mite impatient for that little bit of shiny you brought with you."

DG thought of the dark, ruined stone. _Not so shiny now,_ she thought. She frowned at Jowan, saying nothing. She wouldn't argue the logic of an outlander with someone who knew their ways better than she. DG understood the price she was paying for making the Commander wait all those weeks. News of Catticalisa's defeat had no doubt reached him faster than it had her own mother and father at the Northern palace.

It made her wonder – and she was admittedly frightened of the answer – why he'd waited without a word. After kidnapping her mother and sister an annual before to take the stone by force, why was he willing to endure her nonsense now? Was he really so assured of her?

"When will I see him?" she asked.

Jowan shrugged his sagging shoulders; exhaustion greyed his face, dimmed his eyes. That spark of determination deep inside of her, the one she'd been trying to keep under control these long, long days of interim, flared brighter. Burned hotter.

Even if she could do nothing, she needed to try.

"Don't expect it'll be much longer," was Jowan's evasive reply.

In the end, the Commander didn't send for her, no. He came to her that night; cornered her in the room he'd chosen for that exact purpose. She was alone with him, as she'd never intended to be. Through every hellish envisioning of this very moment, both Cain and Corporal Hass had been at her back. If her breath caught when he slipped into her room, she tried her very best to hide it.

"Princess," he said; his lips curled into a smirk that threatened at any moment to break into a leering grin. "I trust you're comfortable here. This place is a far cry from Central City."

"I wasn't aware that you cared," DG said uneasily.

The Commander shook his head. "A little skittish, aren't you? One might think you were scared."

DG raised her chin. She wouldn't be; she refused to be scared. The drumming of her heart and the reluctance of her lungs to function properly betrayed that confidence, but she stood her ground, if only to herself.

"You're here for the Emerald," she said.

"Among other things."

There it was again, the hitch to her breath as she was caught unaware. She opened her mouth to speak, _other things_? But the Commander held up one coarse-skinned hand and stopped her before she could say a word.

"True to your word, Your Highness, you released Zero after he had fulfilled his obligation to you," he said. "It would have been no skin off your back to leave the man locked up as you were in Catticalisa's dungeon."

DG thought back to the cold, crumbling cells beneath the tangled roots and poppy fields of the Black Forest. Zee's approval. The jumble of confused emotions on Jeb's face as she'd gone out of her way to help Zero escape. The pain in Wyatt's eyes when she told him what she'd willingly done.

"A promise is a promise," she recited, feeling sickened and shameful and defiant all at once. "Zero is the one who got us through the forest and past the shield. It wouldn't have been very grateful of me if I'd left him there to rot."

The Commander's smugness was unnerving. "Oh, the royal army wouldn't have let him rot. The gallows are more than fitting for one so traitorous. Unless you're a Daughter of Light, of course; then, forgiveness is assured."

DG said nothing. Azkadellia walked free while the men under the Sorceress' command during the Possession were rusting in the tower prison. Those who had surrendered after the Eclipse and those who had joined the Lady Catt after the fall of the Sorceress, locked side by side and all doomed to the same fate.

"No one needs to die," DG said firmly. "Even a scumbag like Zero deserves a chance to make it right."

_Everyone does. I do... I am,_ she thought with a surge of renewal.

The Commander raised an eyebrow in interest. "You delay the execution of the hag's men."

She nodded. "Yes. Not my sister, or her generals. Me."

"Your compassion is misplaced and most unbecoming," he said with a shake of his head, and a gravelly chuckle like a flint strike erupting from deep in his throat.

"It's not compassion," she said. He looked at her suspiciously, his black eyes boring deep into her; she resisted the urge to cringe back, and continued as if he didn't intimidate the hell out of her. "It's just good diplomacy."

She saw it, the spark of curiosity in his eyes that died as quickly as it had flared. "Good diplomacy," he repeated. He clasped his hands behind his back expectantly; he stood close enough that she had to raise her chin to meet his eyes, square her shoulders bravely though she was smaller, weaker, and infinitely more fragile. A lion and a mouse.

DG chewed her lip as she took a moment to consider her... enemy? Ally?

_Here goes nothing, _she thought. Twisters and cliffs and towers and witches and Papay and mercenaries and bound spirits... what could she do, what could she _ever_ do but take a deep breath, close her eyes, and hope to hell she landed on her feet. _Here goes everything. Again._

"Seasoned soldiers," she said. "Able-bodied, strong. Most of them aren't the smartest, but I doubt that brains are one of your prerequisites."

Dark eyes narrowed in her direction. "What are you on about, girl?"

Encouraged, she went on, knowing that were she to anger him, he could easily overpower her; her magic would be a mere afterthought were he to lash out. "Dorothy Gale banished Outlanders from the Outer Zone when she took the throne," DG said, walking slowly to the rickety bureau stuffed into the corner of the small room. Sitting atop the scarred surface was the box. Inside the box, on a bed of velvet and lace, the Emerald rested dormant and unneeded. She tapped the top of the box while the Commander cleared his throat, a loud scraping-sound that made her heart jump.

"A dismissible order," he said. "The Gales of the Outer Zone never did pay much attention to what was going on beneath their peoples' feet. A lack of insight that most of the human kingdoms share."

"The families in the outer realms paid enough attention," she said calmly, picking up the plain pine box. The top had been sanded smooth and the wood was sharply redolent of the forest. "The families of the people you took."

The Commander showed no emotion at her heavy words; she'd expected none, but the emptiness between them resonated with her own shame.

"I want those citizens returned to their homes," she said; to her own ears she sounded firm, even though her heart was beating a frantic rhythm that threatened to undo her. Across the room, the Commander straightened – if it were indeed possible, considering his rigid, uncompromising stance and impressive height.

"You know not what you ask," he said through clenched teeth. "I am no jailer; you would give me your enemies to – to what, exactly, did you have in mind, Princess? Put aprons on them? Toss them down a mine shaft? Have them fight for _me_?"

DG felt something inside falter; perhaps it was her courage, or her confidence. She took a deep breath. "You fight no one. You stay neutral in the politics of men. None of the human kingdoms have anything that you value, but for their use as a workforce! I'm offering you just that!"

"It is not enough!" he snapped, fury sparking in his eyes.

She drew in another shaky breath. She pictured her mother in her mind as she closed her eyes and tried to collect herself. Her grip tightened on the wooden box in her hands, she could feel its edges digging into her skin, a friction that burned. Her feet carried her of their own volition, and she found herself before the Commander, at arm's length and raising her eyes to meet his as he stared down at her with a ferocity that threatened to turn her to stone. She braced herself, and held out the box to him.

"It is enough."

The Commander watched her, cynicism heavy on his rugged face. With a possessive hand, he reached out and took the box from her, holding in one massive hand what she'd held in two. He flipped the clasp with his thumb and opened the lid. DG pursed her lips together, letting her hands fall to her sides as the Emerald of the Eclipse passed away from Gale responsibility, a huge weight lifted with so simple a gesture. It should've been harder, but it wasn't. In fact, she was hard pressed to keep herself from smiling as the Commander pulled out the stone and held it up in front of his face.

"It doesn't look like much," DG all but whispered, thinking of the words the Sorceress had spoken through her sister's beautiful lips, moments before she'd banished DG to a coffin and certain, lonely, frightful death.

"Such an insignificant thing," the Commander muttered, seemingly mesmerized by the light reflected off the scratched surface of the Emerald.

DG couldn't help the smirk that twisted her lips. "Hey, I went to a lot of trouble to make it that way."

The Commander's face hardened, the spell of the Emerald broken as he closed his fist around it. "Yes, and for reasons I've yet to completely understand."

Her eyes skipped away from his. "I don't think the reasons matter much any more," she said. "What matters now is setting things right. I can't do that without your agreement."

"And if I refuse, or manipulate your terms?" he demanded. "Would you be so willing to set things right if I were to release all their lives in exchange for only yours? Would _you_ stay to save _them_?"

DG's eyes widened. She hoped to hell it was a hypothetical question; even as it was, she couldn't bring herself to answer, and she looked down at the floor. If that was her choice, then she'd be unable to help anyone. "My terms stand as they are," she said quietly. "The exchange of the Longcoats held in the tower prison for the people of Ozian descent that you stole from their homes."

He scoffed. "Strangers to you. Generations of strangers, most of whom never knew that their country was torn by war and prophecy for fifteen annuals. Unaware that the land _died,_ and that Gale dynasty nearly perished along with it."

"Let them go," she said, clinging tenuously to her resolve. She wouldn't be dissuaded by guilt. It was guilt that drove her forward. "_Please free them_."

Her words seemed to fall into the silence he put between them, and she waited for them to shatter, unheeded. Instead, she heard a hollow _thud_ as the pine box hit the floor; he'd dropped it, and in the instant it took for her to open her eyes, the Commander had taken a step toward her. He put his free hand, rough and heavy, on her shoulder; in the other, he still fisted the Emerald tight. His hand was cold, which seeped through the material of her blouse to chill her bare skin underneath. Whether it was more of an effort to stop herself from shaking, or to keep from flinching away from him, she couldn't rightly discern.

"You would sell your tower full of quislings. Give me an army."

She raised her chin. "Yes."

"Is this a flaw in all humans, to trust so readily?"

"I wouldn't call it a flaw," she said, and the tiniest smile tugged at the corner of her lips. At the sight of her, the Commander's face hardened all the more. "There will be no record of these negotiations," she said. "You won't have ambassadors to all the human kingdoms courting you with similar offers."

He removed his hand, the absence of the weight leaving her shoulder sore. "And when one comes to bid me against you?" he challenged, his eyes lashing at her cruelly.

A flash of fear ran through her at the very fine line she forced herself to tread. She knew it wouldn't all be for nothing.

"I doubt the chance will ever come along tempting enough for you to try fighting my sister and I again."

He laughed; broken and bristled, but true laughter. The sound of it, and the mock stretching of his lips, did not reach his eyes, and she felt that if she were to become frightened, now was as good a time as any. She took a step back.

"Do you accept?" she pressed.

He glared down at her, ruthless and dominant with his eyes; wholly assaulted, she clenched her fists, the only display of defiance she'd allow herself. A long moment passed; she scarcely breathed as she waited. He mumbled something almost inaudible, and her eyes flashed up to meet his, to know she'd heard him correctly.

"_Aye."_

A great rush of relief swept over her, putting a tremble in her knees. Her heart pounded a staccato beat. At a loss for words, she bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from babbling disjointed syllables instead of real speech. As she stared, so silent and still disbelieving, he held up the Emerald between thumb and forefinger for her to see. He didn't look at her, but instead stared hard into the depths of the stone. There were no answers written there, no knowledge or truth; how often had she looked deep into the Emerald herself, waiting to be blessed.

"You will have your prisoners transported to this base, and I will take them into my custody," he said. "When I return to the Outlands, those of Zone blood will be given their choice, their chance at this freedom you want them so desperately to have. They will know the price."

"A price which will have been paid," she said quickly.

The Commander smirked at her. "Foolish girl," he muttered, and lowered the Emerald; again, it disappeared into the mass of his solid fist, hidden by a strength that could crush her bones to dust. "May this be the last time I lay eyes on you. Your men are being held on the fifth level. Leave tonight, before I have the chance to change my mind."

He stepped aside, raising an eyebrow at her – almost as if daring her to leave. She glanced at the door, a portal to freedom and fresh air and _home_. Her eyes went back to the Commander, towering over her, unrelenting with his gaze. She tore herself away from worry and wonder, almost having to force herself to move her feet, take her coat in her hands. She'd brought nothing with her but the Emerald – everything else remained in the forest camp with Jeb and the other men.

She cast a long, uncertain glance over her shoulder; was he really letting her leave so easily? Any doubt she had was pushed out of her mind as the Commander straightened his arm toward her, then crossed it over his chest, fist – and Emerald – pressed over his heart. A salute, one foreign to her, but the gesture and the respect behind it was not lost on her. She gave him a bare nod; what other response was there to give?

"Princess," he said, as she hurried toward the door. "I remain in your debt. Now, _go_."

She nodded again, her eyes wide and her knees shaking at the forcefulness behind his order. She didn't look back again, all but ran from the room, from the Outlander, and from the Emerald that no longer required a Gale guardian.

* * *

_Four months later..._

Sergeant Robert Travers was meant for more than watchtower duty. The generals saw things a little differently, however, and he'd been paying since arriving back in Central City after the fiasco he'd endured escaping the shield and the Black Forest on Jeb Cain's orders.

_Cain_... what was it about that name that implied inordinate amounts of luck and pride? Travers had spent more than a good deal of his time in the gate-towers of Central City pondering this very fact. There didn't seem to be any sense or reason behind it. Cains simply got it done, and reaped the rewards.

Gods damn them to hell, but did they.

Travers, it seemed, was doomed to obscurity on the fringes of the city, while Jeb Cain took up the post of personal guardian to the Queen of the Outer Zone. Not that he minded; no, the risk of working for the royal family wasn't one he was about to court. Truth be told, he'd rather be staring out at the western horizon than pacing the palace corridors with Azkadellia any day. The Queen might be easy on the eyes, but he wasn't envying Jeb the high-collared uniform or the rigorous – and boring – schedule.

He was fine watching the slow flow of traffic through the western gate. He'd spent the winter freezing his ass off, but now spring was blooming and the suns were out near every day. When it was slow and quiet – and it was almost always slow and quiet – he tracked the suns progress across the clear blue sky.

But why the western watchtower? The most encompassing of his duties involved lighting the beacons every night; child's play, really. Though he shouldn't be complaining; it was because of Jeb that he hadn't been shipped out to border patrol or enforcement in the outer realms. Andrus had been more than keen to get rid of him. Jeb, however, had insisted that he needed a man he could trust in the watchtower.

Damned if he could see the importance in all of this. It still felt like punishment, cruel and extraordinarily slow. And endless stream of monotony and nothing; the same passage of travellers, wagon searches, and an infinity of standing watch.

But that day...

He was alone in the tower when he first saw it; his partner was out walking the wall. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, as had often happened after staring at the same lifeless horizon for hours. The Sorceress' tower was a black shadow that marred the landscape. It was this that his eyes had focused on – as they did dozens of times each and every day – when something out of place to the west of the tower caught his attention.

He squinted, cursed himself, and then searched around for the field glasses. Raising them to his eyes, he fiddled with the focus until everything on the western horizon came into stark clarity.

_What the hell?_

He put the glasses down on the stone ledge; he stared and stared until he could be sure that he wasn't imagining things. He kept his eyes on the movement in the far west, growing more and more certain as the moments passed. When his partner returned, he handed over the glasses. The boy looked through them, played with the dial, and then let out a string of cusses similar to the ones Travers himself had just emitted.

"You'd better try getting a hold of the captain," the young soldier said, still staring out at the western horizon through the heavy brass glasses. He made no move to put them down, though his jaw slowly dropped and didn't pick itself up.

Mumbling, Travers went for the receiver on the wall, and got connected to the palace switchboard. Within minutes, Captain Cain was on the other end.

"Captain, sir, I think you'd best be coming down to the west watchtower," he said.

The calm voice on the other end didn't seem the least bit intrigued; Travers had heard enough rumours about Wyatt Cain to know that there was probably very little that surprised him or aroused his curiosity.

"What is it?" he asked.

"People, sir. Looks to be about sixty bodies. Travellin' the Brick Route out of the west. They're heading straight for Central."

"We'll be right there," Captain Cain said shortly, and the line went dead.

Travers went back to the ledge. "We're really seein' this, ain't we?" he wondered aloud.

His partner moved the field glasses away from his face long enough to give Travers a wide-eyed nod. "What do ya think they're marchin' for?"

"Don't think they're marching."

In under forty-five minutes, the sleek black car pulled up onto the street beneath the tower. Travers, waiting at the top of the winding steps, watched as the captain climbed out of the back seat. Captain Cain then reached out a hand and helped the princess, her out-to-here belly more than a minor nuisance now. The captain was as impassive as Travers had ever seen him, but the princess was all smiles, greeting him at the top of the stairs as if she'd known him for annuals.

"Sir?" he asked, nodding toward the princess after she'd gone past him.

Wyatt Cain frowned. "She insisted," he said.

The two men watched as the princess walked to the railing. She took the field glasses in hand, stared out at the horizon for a few moments, and then gave an unrestrained laughed. "I don't believe it!" she said; she handed over the glasses and then turned to the captain. Travers suddenly felt as if he were invading on a truly personal moment as the princess ran to her husband and threw her arms around his neck. "I can't believe it," she said again. "It's been so long, I didn't think he'd let them go!"

The captain kissed the side of her head; Travers looked away respectfully. "You did it, Darlin'. I told you that patience would win out."

She grinned at him, and went back to the railing, hands on her stomach.

"They, sir?" Travers asked, not expecting an answer. He wasn't disappointed, as the captain ignored him.

"I put in a call to the Tower before I left," the captain said instead. "Route Patrol won't stop them; dependin' on how hard they push, could be they're here by morning."

The princess whirled around. "Did I hear you right? Morning? Send some vans to pick them up!"

Captain Cain's voice took on an odd undertone. "Most of 'em probably haven't seen the suns in annuals. Let them stretch their legs."

Travers stayed quiet, knowing by now that questions were pointless; answers had to be earned. As it stood, he was finally beginning to understand what had always been said about the Gales and their secrets. Good or bad, a witch was a witch.

In the end, it took a long time convincing the princess to go back to the palace. Much to Travers' incredulity, DG – he'd already twice made the mistake of calling her 'Your Highness' – seemed ready to camp out at the tower until the slow moving pilgrims made it to Central City. With the last of the good afternoon light, they'd all taken a last glance at the group as they'd made camp out on the plains. There were children running amongst men and women of all ages. In all, there seemed to be a few over seventy.

With the captain's permission, Travers pulled a double-shift. He'd never questioned why the tower on the west gate was the only one that reported directly to Wyatt Cain. Now, thinking on the man's last name, it shouldn't have surprised him that something like this had happened on Travers' watch. Seemed like the Cains had been expecting the exodus.

The lights of the fires in the distance could be made out with the field glasses, though to the naked eye, it was nothing but darkness in the west. He wondered if the soldiers in the tower prison watched the travellers as he did. As dawn broke over the O.Z., the first sun rising to clear skies, an armed escort was dispatched from the west gate to bring the travellers to the city.

Travers was down on the street pavement, the ironwork of the west gate stretching far above his head, when the strangers finally arrived at the city gates. Though he'd expected smiles and laughter, which seemed to follow Princess DG around, there was apprehension – even fear – on the awestruck faces of the pilgrims as they came into a huddle just shy of the shadows cast by the wall.

It was Princess DG who went forward. Captain Cain stayed a few feet behind her, ever present at her back. There was something unbreakable that lingered between the princess and the captain; though it wasn't something he felt he fully comprehended, Travers found himself admiring it nonetheless. It distracted him enough from the mass of ragged strangers until one broke away from the crowd and walked toward the princess.

He was an old man, tall but hunched; he was clothed better than most, everything about him weathered and beaten, but still strong. The princess seemed to recognize him as the two stopped to regard each other.

The old man bowed deeply to the princess; there was a grin on his face as he straightened. She waited only moments before she embraced him.

There was no cheering, no excitement. Only a buzzing murmur that grew in volume as the crowd of pilgrims was escorted through the city gate, at their head the princess, her arm looped through the old man's.

Over the weeks that followed, Travers came to know the importance – and the almost miracle – of the scene he witnessed that day under the shadow of the western gate. With the city at his back, he might not have realized it for the puzzlement he felt, but as rumours and stories of reunion began to circulate through the streets, he would eventually come to understand how great treasures could lead to greater things, how lost children of the Zone had come home, how one man had stood unfailingly behind one young woman, and how that young woman had saved the world – again.

**The End**


End file.
